Ancient Roman Sports, A-Z : Athletes, Venues, Events and Terms [1 ed.] 9781476636245, 9781476671697

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Ancient Roman Sports, A–Z

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Ancient Roman Sports, A–Z Athletes, Venues, Events and Terms David Matz

McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers Jefferson, North Carolina

To Lauren

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Names: Matz, David, author. Title: Ancient Roman sports, A/Z : athletes, venues, events and terms / David Matz. Description: Jefferson, North Carolina : McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2019 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019007713 | ISBN 9781476671697 (paperback. : acid free paper) Subjects: LCSH: Sports—Rome—History—Handbooks, manuals, etc. | Athletes—Rome—History—Handbooks, manuals, etc. | Games—Rome—History—Handbooks, manuals, etc. Classification: LCC GV31 .M37 2019 | DDC 796.0937—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019007713

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BRITISH LIBRARY CATALOGUING DATA ARE AVAILABLE

ISBN (print) 978-1-4766-7169-7 ISBN (ebook) 978-1-4766-3624-5 © 2019 David Matz. All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Front cover: Floor mosaic from a Roman villa in Nennig, Germany, depicting a retiarius gladiator lunging with a trident at his secutor opponent, 2nd–3rd century ce (photograph by Carole Raddato) Printed in the United States of America

McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640 www.mcfarlandpub.com

While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls—the World. —Lord byron (quoting the venerable bede), Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 145

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Contents Preface

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The Entries

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Appendix i. glossary of Terms

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Appendix ii. Chariot Racing and gladiatorial Shows

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Appendix iii. important Dates in Roman general history and Sports history

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Appendix iv. Ancient Authors Cited in the Text

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bibliography

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index

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Preface Missing in the long history of classical scholarship: a reference book that provides within its pages extensive information about both Roman charioteering and gladiatorial shows as well as other sports. This book is intended to remedy that situation. The central feature of the book, however, is the information contained in the 100 encyclopedic entries on noteworthy competitive events and the athletes who showcased their talents in the arenas and on the racetracks. each entry offers citations of print and electronic resources for further reading. Most of the entries are concerned with chariot racing and gladiatorial bouts, since these are by far the best-attested Roman sports and the most popular. And there is far more information available about individual charioteers and gladiators than there is about competitors in other sports. The Romans never had the same passion as the greeks for ancient olympic sports such as foot racing, boxing, or wrestling, nor did Roman athletes customarily compete and win in the olympics. The relative indifference to these other forms of athletic competition is reflected in the content of this book, with its heavy emphasis on charioteering and gladiatorial bouts. however, the Romans did enjoy other sports, such as swimming, boxing, and foot and boat racing, but these other activities were very seldom contested as organized athletic competitions, nor were they widely attested by ancient authors, with the result that we know next to nothing about the skilled or accomplished athletes who participated in them. Therefore, only a few of the entries in this book are concerned with these “other” sports. The appendices include a glossary of terms used in the entries; a brief history of chariot racing and gladiatorial shows; a timeline, both general and sports-related; and biographical notes on the ancient authors whose works were consulted. finally, a general bibliography and an index appear at the conclusion of the book.

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Notes on the Text Augustus. The first Roman emperor was given the honorary name “Augustus” in 27 bce. Prior to that time, his full Roman name was gaius Julius Caesar octavianus, or simply “octavian.” So in order to be chronologically correct, he should be referred to as octavian before 27, and as Augustus after that date.

Dating Terminology. for many years, the designations bc and ad were used to represent events that occurred before and after the birth of Christ, respectively. however, these venerable dating symbols have been replaced by the more generic bce (“before Common era”) and ce (“Common era”), and these will be used throughout in this book. Dio Cassius. Modern historians variously reference the second/third century ce writer Dio Cassius Cocceianus as “Dio,” “Dio Cassius,” or “Cassius Dio.” “Dio Cassius” is used in this book.

Epigraphical Evidence. The word epigraphy refers to the art and science of editing, translating and interpreting Latin (or greek) texts inscribed on non-perishable materials like stone or bronze. it would be safe to say that the vast majority of known biographical data on individual gladiators and charioteers comes from epigraphical evidence. Many, although not all, of these inscriptions are funerary, and many are formulaic. This is particularly true of gladiatorial epitaphs, which generally include the following information, with little variation: the name and classification of the gladiator; his nationality; the number of fights and/or the number of victories; the name of the person (usually the widow) who commissioned the epitaph. Almost always inscribed near the top of an epitaph is the abbreviation “D.M.,” standing for dis manibus, “to the underworld gods.” Any inscription bearing those two letters at the outset indicates in all cases an epitaph. inscriptions about charioteers usually display a little more variety and somewhat greater detail than their gladiatorial counterparts, but these, too, tend to be quite formulaic. Most inscriptions, whether pertaining to charioteers or gladiators, are laconic; some contain only a couple lines. others are both short and fragmentary, resulting in the necessity of speculating about what kinds of information might have appeared in the missing piece(s). (A good example of attempting to “squeeze” information from a seriously flawed inscription may be found in the entry “unnamed(?) retiarius.”) Many inscriptions contain obscure words and/or inscrutable abbreviations. Some abbreviations (like the “D.M.” mentioned above) appear so frequently that there is no doubt about their interpretation, but others are seen so rarely that their meanings can only be surmised. Most inscriptions are impossible to date

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with precision, although it is sometimes possible to determine the century in which they were made. interestingly, charioteers and especially gladiators were sometimes featured in graffiti, and many of these wall-writing specimens have been preserved in Pompeii. Collectively, they offer a picture into the lives of gladiators which would not be available from any other ancient source. Most known Latin inscriptions have been collected, edited (although not translated) and published in the massive, multi-volume Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, (CIL), The Body of Latin Inscriptions. The CIL contains reproductions of the texts of some 200,000 inscriptions, on every imaginable aspect of ancient Roman life and history. Additional information about epigraphy and the CIL can be found in the bibliography.

Roman Money. The basic unit of exchange in the Roman monetary system was the sesterce (Latin sestertium). Although it is difficult to gauge the value of a sesterce relative to American money, some idea of its buying power may be gained by considering its worth to the Romans. for example, there was a net worth requirement of 400,000 sesterces for admission into Rome’s generally prosperous and thriving middle class, the equestrian order. hence, it would be reasonable to conclude that anyone with that kind of money could expect to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. Also, the edict of Diocletian, a fourth century ce wage-price freeze, specifies maximum wages which could legally be paid to all manner of workers: carpenters, bakers, barbers, wall painters, teachers, scribes, muleteers, farm laborers, shipwrights, and many more. Many of these workers were restricted to 200 or fewer sesterces per day. So this kind of information provides a context when examining the amount of prize money won by a noted and successful charioteer like Appuleius Diocles, who amassed over 35,000,000 sesterces during the course of his 24-year charioteering career.

Roman Names. Most (male) Romans had three names: a praenomen (equivalent to our first, or given name); a nomen (the family name); and a cognomen (referencing the branch of the family); example: gaius Julius Caesar. unlike modern parents, the Romans had very few naming options when a new baby entered the family. There were only about 17 praenomina; among the most common were Aulus, gaius, Lucius, Marcus, Publius, Sextus, and Titus. There seems to be no pattern to the way in which we reference the Romans today. gaius Julius Caesar is sometimes identified by both his nomen and cognomen, “Julius Caesar,” or other times, only by his cognomen, “Caesar.” Marcus Tullius Cicero, on the other hand, is almost always referenced by his cognomen only, “Cicero,” whereas the epic poet Publius vergilius Maro is known only by the Anglicized version of his nomen, virgil. Perhaps the award for the most bizarre naming evolution should belong

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to the emperor Augustus. When he was born, his name was gaius octavius, with no cognomen. in 44 bce, when it was revealed that he had been adopted by Julius Caesar according to the terms of Caesar’s will, he acquired Caesar’s full name, while retaining his original nomen as a slightly altered fourth name: gaius Julius Caesar octavianus. Later, in 27, he was given the honorary title “Augustus,” and it is by this name that he is best known today. female babies were generally known only by the feminized form of the family name. for example, the daughter of Marcus Tullius Cicero was called Tullia. if there were two daughters, their names would have been Tullia Maior (“older”) and Tullia Minor (“younger”). A third daughter would have been called Tullia Tertia (“Third”).

The Spelling of Coliseum. The word Coliseum, much like the name Shakespeare, seems to have several acceptable spellings. “Coliseum” is the form used in this book.

The Spelling of Virgil’s Name. The full Roman name of the famous epic poet virgil is Publius vergilius Maro. Today, he is usually known only by the translated version of his second name, “vergilius” to “virgil.” Although vergil would therefore be the more logical spelling of his translated name, most editors, translators, and historians render the name as virgil; hence, that is the spelling which is used in this book.

The Entries Administering and publicizing gladiatorial shows. A large and widespread institution like gladiatorial combat required skilled managers, marketers, producers, and financial officials. So the Romans devised a system of administering and promoting gladiatorial shows that rivaled modern sports establishments in efficiency and sophistication. Effective publicity for upcoming shows was a top priority. Gladiatorial publicists relied upon advertisements painted on walls as their primary promotional medium. More than 50 of these announcements survive today; the majority have been discovered in the ruins of Pompeii, the famous south central Italian city buried by the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 ce. One of the most interesting of these wall paintings advertised a gladiatorial show to be produced by a man with the imposing Latin name of Gnaeus Alleus Nigidus Maius. In order to increase the live gate at his show, Alleus offered several promotional gimmicks: a venatio, or mock wild beast hunt; athletae, also known as athletes—possibly jugglers or trick horseback riders—who would entertain the crowd prior to the start of the gladiatorial contests; sparsiones, a word that literally means “sprinklings,” and probably referred to the distribution of door prizes to the spectators. But the most intriguing enticements were the vela, or awnings. Many amphitheaters in the Roman world could be partially domed by unfurling a series of awnings to protect the seating areas in the event of inclement weather. (The credit for inventing doming, and retractable doming, of stadia thus belongs to the ancient Romans.) Apparently, the availability of these canopies represented an important attraction in the efforts to draw large crowds, because many of the show advertisements featured prominent references to vela. In any case, these various promotions were secondary to the main events, and were clearly intended as additional inducements to lure spectators. In this respect, the ancient gladiatorial show producer was no different than his 5

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modern counterpart, the professional sports magnate, who attempts to generate fan interest by offering cap days, ball days, bobble-head days, jacket days, and many other special attractions. Another Pompeian advertisement promised not only animal hunts, door prizes, and awnings, but also totius orbis desiderium, a phrase that may be very loosely translated as “just what you’ve been waiting for.” And what was it that the potential spectator might have been so eager to see? A matchup of two well-known gladiators, Pompilus and Fortunatus. Publicists often promoted upcoming shows by guaranteeing the appearance of popular gladiators, in much the same way as stadium announcers today tout future games by reminding fans of the famous athletes who will perform as members of the opposing teams in those games. Individual gladiators frequently attained personal followings among the fans who attended the shows. Not surprisingly, some gladiators acquired coteries of female admirers. Some of the Pompeian graffiti commemorate a gladiator named Celadus, referred to on one wall scratching as the “ornament of the girls,” in another as the “heartthrob of the girls.” The names of combatants like Pompilus, Fortunatus, and Celadus were often used in show announcements; the wall-publicized appearance of famous gladiators served as an added attendance-boosting technique. Some of these notices specified the number of bouts that would be fought, the number of gladiators involved, and the calendar dates on which the matches were to occur. In short, all the information required by fans of the shows was included in these announcements. They seemed to have been an effective method of communication, given that the amphitheaters were customarily filled to capacity. Another concern of the managers was the acquisition of gladiators and gladiatorial trainees. Contrary to popular opinion, most gladiators were not Christian draftees forced to fight in the arena as punishment for their religious views. While it is true that some gladiators would have preferred a different line of work, the majority volunteered, probably attracted by the same sorts of benefits that lure young men today into high risk occupations such as professional football or hockey: a decent salary, a generous per diem for food and lodging, top-notch medical care, the excitement of competition, and, of course, the acclaim accorded them by an adoring public. Owning gladiators and producing shows was a costly venture, partially because of the capital required for the promotional gimmicks, and partially because of the expenses incurred in purchasing, equipping, and paying the gladiators. Owners of gladiators might buy and sell them to each other, or they might acquire them from independent entrepreneurs. In any case, the purchase prices often spiraled out of control, with government intervention not far behind.

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A second century ce Roman senator—his name is not recorded—made a speech in which he offered some specific proposals for regulating the costs of obtaining gladiators. Portions of his speech are preserved in the form of a long inscription carved onto a bronze tablet. According to this inscription, the senator proposed dividing all gladiators into five classes, based evidently on their skill and experience. Maximum prices for these gladiators would then be established, with a Class One gladiator commanding the highest maximum purchase price and a Class Five gladiator the lowest. The prices would fluctuate depending on the lavishness of the show for which the individual gladiator was acquired. Production costs for a typical show might have varied from 30,000 sesterces to 150,000 sesterces or more. The senator recommended maximum purchase prices for the five classes, based on production costs, as follows: CLASS: One 5,000 8,000 12,000 15,000

COST OF SHOW: Two 4,000 6,000 10,000 12,000

Three 3,000 5,000 8,000 9,000

Four — — 6,000 7,000

Five — — 5,000 6,000

30,000–60,000 sesterces 60,000–100,000 100,000–150,000 150,000 or more

While it is difficult to suggest with confidence modern equivalencies for ancient currency, multiplying any of the figures above by 0.4 would yield their approximate value in dollars. In reading the table, the figures in the first five columns represent maximum purchase prices; the figures in the final column specify the cost of the show to which the purchase prices would be applied. Example: A Class One gladiator fighting in a show with production costs of 50,000 sesterces would command a maximum purchase price of 5,000 sesterces. But if he were purchased to perform in a show costing 200,000 sesterces, his price tag could rise to 15,000. (Compare the similarly complicated systems for assessing the value of free agents in modern professional baseball.) Unfortunately, several details remain shrouded in mystery. It is not known, for example, what specific criteria would be used in classifying gladiators, nor is it known who would be responsible for assigning them to the categories. Nor can it be stated with any certainty what factors differentiated a 30,000 sesterce show from one costing 150,000. Presumably, a show featuring wild beast hunts, athletes, door prizes, and canopies would cost more to put on than a show offering fewer or no promotions. Clearly, the senator’s audience was cognizant of these details, therefore obviating any need on his part to explain them more fully. As an additional means of controlling costs, the senator suggested that half the gladiators at all shows be drawn from the lowest categories. The point

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of this proposal seems to have been that these relative unknowns would command a lower purchase price and a lower wage; the savings thus gained might be reflected in a minimizing of the costs of the show. A modern analogy might be a rule in professional football that required half of all rosters to be composed of (low-salaried) rookies and free agents. However, as the sports world has learned when replacement players take over for established stars in times of labor unrest, fan interest in watching unknowns is minimal. The same was undoubtedly true of the ancient Roman gladiatorial aficionado, who, as noted previously, was attracted to the amphitheater in part by the promised appearance of big-name gladiators. The owners apparently resisted this suggestion for reducing costs, fearing an eventual loss of profits as a result of declining popular support. In addition to the combatants, the gladiatorial bureaucracy generated a large support staff, including tailors, armorers, trainers, masseurs, physicians, cashiers, accountants, messengers, and guards. All were on the payroll. The source of the funding is something of a mystery. Gladiatorial shows were usually underwritten by wealthy private citizens, frequently politicians endeavoring to gain favor with the voters. (The Latin word for gladiatorial show, munus, originally meant “gift.” The word was eventually associated with the shows because they were bankrolled and presented by office seekers as gifts to the populace, in exchange, one assumes, for votes at the next election.) In later times, the imperial treasury seems to have provided most of the funding. The money was evidently funneled to the show producers, who used it to buy, equip, and pay the gladiators, and to cover the publicity and promotional costs. Gate receipts, however, never yielded large sums. It appears that admission charges were generally minimal, and perhaps even waived on some occasions. Sources: CIL 2.6278 (the senatorial speech); CIL 4.1177 (the Alleus inscription); CIL 4.1184 (the Pompilus v. Fortunatus inscription); CIL 4342 (a Celadus graffito); CIL 4.4345 (also a Celadus graffito).

Alypius and the gladiators. The learned and erudite St. Augustine (354– 430 ce) had a young friend by the name of Alypius. He was a student of St. Augustine’s, both in their hometown of Hippo in north Africa, and later in Carthage, where St. Augustine taught rhetoric and philosophy. Young Alypius was an upright, moral person, but he soon fell under the sway of the many entertainments available in the bustling city of Carthage, and in particular the gladiatorial shows which were regularly featured in that city’s amphitheater. In fact, he became obsessed with the shows, to the point that it began to seem as if this passion of his might derail what could have been a distinguished career in law or oratory.

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It so happened that one day, when St. Augustine was lecturing to one of his classes, Alypius happened to drop by unexpectedly, and take a place among the students. St. Augustine suddenly had an idea: the particular text from which he was reading could be illustrated by an example from the gladiatorial games. The students would connect with it, and it would also discredit what St. Augustine characterized as “this insane sport.” Although Augustine (oddly) does not reveal the specific example which he offered to the class, it nonetheless had the desired effect on Alypius. He immediately expressed the strongest desire to break free of the bonds of passion for the games which had held him. He swore never to go near the arena again. Further, he made the decision to become a full-time student under Augustine’s tutelage. Unfortunately, Alypius moved away from Africa and St. Augustine’s influence, and on to Rome, to study law. Once there, he fell under the spell of the dynamic and famous city, and the old urges to attend the shows gradually crept back into his consciousness. In the beginning, he was able to hold these urges in check, but eventually, he caved in to peer pressure, because one day he happened to run into some friends from the school where he was pursuing his legal studies. They persuaded him to accompany them to the amphitheater, ignoring his pleas that he did not wish to attend. “You may drag me there bodily, but do you imagine that you can make me watch the show and give my mind to it? I shall be there, but it will be just as if I were not present, and I shall prove myself stronger than you or the games.” (tr. Pine-Coffin). Alypius made this defiant statement to his friends, but that did not discourage them from their desire to take him to the games. They may have remained adamant about his attendance just to see if he would make good on his threat to pay no attention to the action in the arena. When they arrived at the venue, they secured the best seats that were available; Alypius sat with his eyes closed tightly. Unfortunately, he could not also close his ears, and when roars and cheers arose from the assembled multitude, he had difficulty keeping his eyes shut. But he was confident that, no matter what had caused the crowd to react, he could view the scene while maintaining his resolve to find it disgraceful and appalling, so he opened his eyes. When he saw the gory panorama before him—a defeated gladiator prone on the arena floor—all of his former demons converged on him. He should have averted his gaze, but instead, he became mesmerized by the bloody scene before him. He underwent a transformation, from unwilling attendee to bloodlust-filled spectator. He cheered, he yelled, he completely gave way to his base impulses. When the show was finally over, he left the amphitheater fully sated with the carnage he saw, and found himself craving more. He returned again and again, each time voluntarily, no longer being led by friends, but leading them.

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St. Augustine notes that only God was able to rescue Alypius from this insanity, but, sadly, not until much later. Sources: St. Augustine, Confessions 6.7–8. Pine-Coffin, R. S. (tr.). Saint Augustine. Confessions. Baltimore: Penguin Books, first published, 1961.

Ammianus Marcellinus: his attitude toward charioteers and their fan base. The antiquarian Ammianus Marcellinus (330–395 ce), called by The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature “the last great Roman historian who wrote in Latin,” compiled a survey of Roman history from the death of Domitian in 96 ce to the loss of the Romans in battle to the Goths in 378 ce. Following are excerpts from his book pertinent to charioteers, and those who admired them:

14.6: Ammianus never seems to tire of making uncomplimentary comments about “average Romans,” the plebeians who enjoyed following and viewing dangerous sports. These lowlifes, according to Ammianus, waste away their time in taverns, or loll about in the shade created by the canopies around theaters (and presumably also amphitheaters), or squabble with each other over their games of chance, all the while making repulsive sounding groans and grunts. But their favorite form of wasting time—morning, noon, and night, good weather and bad—consists of discussing with each other, in great detail, the fine points of horses and charioteers. Crowds of these slackers swarm to the races, with only one thought filling their otherwise vacant minds: the result of the next race. “These and similar things,” laments Ammianus, “prevent anything memorable or serious from being done in Rome” (tr. Rolfe). 14.12: The emperor Gaius Vibius Trebonianus Gallus (reigned 251–253 ce) left Antioch (where he had ruled with great cruelty) during a civil disturbance, and headed for Constantinople, where he was hoping to find safe refuge. Apparently to ingratiate himself with his new subjects, he sponsored chariot races, and crowned a certain charioteer named Thorax as the winner. (According to the translator and editor J. C. Rolfe, Gallus overstepped his authority; it was inappropriate for emperors to acknowledge charioteering prowess in this manner.)

15.7: Leontinus, a local official and judge in Rome, was by all accounts doing an excellent job of adjudicating the cases that came before him: humane where possible, prompt, honest, and fair in handing down decisions. However, a few defendants felt that he was too strict, and too prone to find them guilty of the crimes with which they had been charged. This, in turn, led to popular dissatisfaction with him; this feeling was intensified first of all by what Ammianus termed a very pointless and insubstantial claim. It appears that a charioteer by the name of Philoromus was arrested, although the alleged crime

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is not stated. Apparently, this Philoromus was a crowd favorite; in any event, his fans were enraged by the detention of their hero. They attempted to assault the judge, but he quickly mobilized his armed bodyguards, who dispersed the mob. Some were captured and tortured, while others were exiled. No one opposed his response. The fate of the cause of it all, Philoromus, is not recorded.

28.4: Once again, Ammianus turns his attention to the slothful plebeians, who apply made-up, high-sounding names to themselves in a silly effort to appear more dignified. They waste away their lives in drinking, gambling, and most of all, watching chariot races. “Their temple, their dwelling, their assembly, and the height of all their hopes,” writes Ammianus, “is the Circus Maximus” (tr. Rolfe). It is possible to see many little groups of them, collected together in the forums, on the streets, and elsewhere, debating all sorts of topics, but with the focus usually on the races. The oldest of these layabouts, the influential ones with the wrinkled faces and the snow white hair, argue that the Roman state is done for if, in the upcoming chariot races, the driver that each one supports does not jump out to the lead, or fails to make the turns close enough to the spina with his doomed horses. (The editor, J. C. Rolfe, suggests that the phrase equi inominales—literally, “ill-omened horses”—might refer to the possibility that the driver has been the victim of some sort of curse or magic spell.) He complains that the crowds descend on the circus before sunrise, running even faster than the chariots that they will soon be watching on the track. Many of these fanatics, he writes, have been unable to sleep during the night, so excited were they about the next day’s races. 28.4: Ammianus notes that a charioteer could be enlisted by a debtor for help in dealing with a particularly aggressive creditor. He cites a case where a charioteer, apparently by employing some sort of curse formula or black magic (tactics that charioteers allegedly possessed and used against their rivals on the track), was able to cause one of these persistent creditors to be charged with being a poisoner. And the charioteer reportedly did not remove the curse, and dispel the charge, until the accused creditor agreed not only to forgive the debt, but also to pay a heavy indemnity to his erstwhile debtor. Source: Rolfe, J. C. (tr.). Ammianus Marcellinus. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1950. Rolfe, J. C. (tr.). Ammianus Marcellinus. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1939.

Amphitheater collapse. The historian Cornelius Tacitus recounts a tragedy that occurred in 27 ce, in the town of Fidena, near Rome. It seems that a

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man by the name of Atilius had spearheaded the building of an amphitheater there, in order to provide a venue for gladiatorial shows. Unfortunately, he cut some corners in the construction process: his workers did not properly prepare the foundations of the amphitheater, nor did they securely fabricate the superstructure. Atilius turned a blind eye to these deficiencies, partially because the project was underfunded, and partially because he had no particular concern about the attitudes of his fellow townsmen. He was in it, claims Tacitus, only to make money. But the new amphitheater had a great appeal to the lovers of spectacles, and they all came for the shows; young and old, men and women, they packed the building to capacity. This overcrowding only worsened the disaster to follow. The construction short-cuts came back to haunt Atilius, as the collective weight of the spectators caused the overloaded seating areas to buckle and collapse. The fortunate ones were those whose deaths came quickly; the less fortunate were those who were buried alive in the rubble, whose screams and wailings could be heard, but whose locations were inaccessible to rescuers. News of the disaster spread rapidly, and soon the friends and relatives of the dead and injured spectators flocked to the scene. Even so, the uncertainty about whether their loved ones were actually trapped, or deceased, or perhaps had not even attended the show, but were safe elsewhere, only increased the sense of helplessness and desperation. Once the rubble had been cleared away, the survivors began the grim task of identifying the dead (not always possible, because of the severity of the disfigurations) and arranging for their removal from the scene. Tacitus records that 50,000 people were either killed or injured in the disaster; the biographer Suetonius puts the figure at more than 20,000, in his Life of Tiberius. In any event, it seems clear that the devastation was widespread. As a result, the Roman senate passed a law requiring that no one whose net worth was less than 400,000 sesterces would in the future be permitted to produce a gladiatorial show, and that no amphitheater could be constructed anywhere, except on a firm foundation, and on ground not likely to be unstable. As for Atilius, his punishment was exile. Meanwhile, on the day after the collapse, the residents of the area displayed unparalleled generosity and concern for the survivors. The homes of the well-to-do were opened up to become makeshift hospitals; physicians came from all quarters; bandages, ointments, and other medical supplies were freely provided. Tacitus, who was often a cynical critic of first century ce Roman society, found these acts of mercy to be highly praiseworthy. He compared the emergency responses to be on a par with the lofty standards set by old school Romans of previous generations, in similar situations. Sources: Suetonius, Life of Tiberius 40. Tacitus, Annals 4.63.

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Androcles and the lion. The essayist Aulus Gellius relates a story recounted by an antiquarian named Apion, who had written a book containing descriptions of all the amazing things to be seen in Egypt; the book, appropriately enough, was titled The Wonders of Egypt. In many of these stories, Apion records remarkable events that he had not personally witnessed, but had only heard about. However, in the case of Androcles and the lion, he states that he saw for himself the miraculous interaction between the slave-turned-beast fighter Androcles, and the vicious lion that he was forced to confront. As Gellius retells the tale, an exhibition of wild beasts was taking place in the Circus Maximus one day. Since Apion happened to be in Rome at the time, he decided to make his way to the Circus, and observe the proceedings. Many fierce animals were on display, noteworthy not only for their illtempered natures, but also their huge size and remarkable appearance. But of all these creatures, the lions attracted the most attention. One lion in particular stood out from the rest; he was gigantic, bigger than the others, and seemingly more aggressive. Muscles bulged from every part of his body, and his roar was deafening. His flowing mane draped over his massive shoulders. Many slaves and other unfortunates had been rounded up that day to fight with this assemblage of wild beasts; one of these beast-fighters was Androcles, the slave of a former consul. When Androcles stepped out into the arena, a strange thing happened. “When that lion saw him from a distance,” writes Gellius, quoting Apion, he stopped short as if in amazement, and then approached the man slowly and quietly, as if he recognized him. Then, wagging his tail in a mild and caressing way, [like a] fawning dog, he came close to the man, who was now half dead from fright, and gently licked his feet and hands. The man, Androcles, while submitting to the caresses of so fierce a beast, regained his lost courage and gradually turned his eyes to look at the lion. Then … you might have seen man and lion exchange joyful greetings, as if they had recognized each other (tr. Rolfe).

When the astonished crowd saw this interaction between man and beast, they shouted and applauded. Caesar (apparently Gaius Julius Caesar) summoned Androcles and demanded an explanation: why had this untamed, vicious wild animal not devoured him? Androcles responded with an amazing story. He said that when his master was the governor of the province of Africa, he used to beat him unmercifully, and for no apparent reason. Hence, Androcles said, he fled into the desert and found whatever hiding places he could. One day, he came across a secluded cave, well sheltered from the relentless heat of the sun. He went inside, hoping it to be a safe refuge, and a place not easily found by his master’s soldiers. Shortly after ensconcing himself in his remote hideaway, the owner of the cave returned: a huge and fearsome-looking lion. But this lion was clearly in distress; one paw was bleeding, and evidently very painful, if the lion’s

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moans and soft growls were any indication. When Androcles first saw the beast, he was filled with icy fear. But when the lion first saw Androcles, halfhidden and trembling, he approached slowly and passively, and raised his paw, as if to display it to his terrified house guest. The lion’s demeanor was anything but aggressive; rather, it appeared to Androcles as if the animal were seeking assistance. He overcame his fear, gently grasped the lion’s bleeding foot, and removed a large splinter that was lodged in it. He cleaned out the pus and blood that had collected around the injury, and washed and dried it. Relieved of his pain, the lion placed his wounded paw into Androcles’ hand, curled up, and fell asleep. Androcles said that he and the lion cohabitated in that cave for three years, and that his four-footed friend shared with him the best parts of the meat that he had procured during his hunting expeditions. Since Androcles had no means of kindling a fire, his method of making the meat edible was to dry it in the noonday sun. But after three years of this lifestyle, Androcles tired of cave inhabitation, and one day, he slipped away while the lion was out on a hunt. But a band of Roman soldiers soon spotted him, took him into custody, and sent him back to his master (who had since left Africa, and returned to Rome). Apparently at about the same time, the lion (unbeknownst to Androcles) was also captured, and transported to Rome, to be displayed in the shows. Meanwhile, Androcles—a runaway slave—was immediately sentenced to become a beast fighter in the arena, and thus to face certain death. But on the very day that he was to have met his end, he recognized among the animals the very same lion whose paw he had doctored in the cave. Apion writes that after Androcles had recounted his amazing tale to Caesar, and after his story had been written on tablets and circulated among the spectators in the Circus Maximus, he was set free by popular demand, and, as an additional bonus, he was given ownership of the lion. “Afterwards,” said [Apion], “we used to see Androcles with the lion, attached to a slender leash, making the rounds of the shops throughout the city. Androcles was given money, the lion was sprinkled with flowers, and everyone who met them anywhere exclaimed: ‘This is the lion that was a man’s friend, [and] this is the man who was physician to a lion’” (tr. Rolfe.) Sources: Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 5.14. Rolfe, John C. (tr.). The Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1927.

Apollonius (gladiator). Apollonius was a Thracian gladiator who is known only from a very short funerary inscription. The scarcity of information about him on the inscription does not enable us to determine when he lived. The

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translation of the text: “Sacred to the Underworld Gods. In memory of Apollonius, a Thracian gladiator. Left-handed. Freed after his sixth fight.” The most striking feature about the inscription is the reference to Apollonius’ left-handedness. Rarely do we see this kind of descriptive information recorded about gladiators, and right-handed gladiators are never identified as such. So there must have been some kind of significance attached to lefthanded combatants. Perhaps a “southpaw” had a special advantage, since a right-handed gladiator would carry his shield in his left hand, thus exposing the right side of his body, the prime target for a left-handed gladiator. Also, the protective armor of some classes of gladiators covered only the left side of the body, implying that their opponents were almost exclusively righthanded. The final line of the inscription—Lib VI in Latin—poses a problem in interpretation. Some understand it to mean lib(erato) sexta [pugna], “freed after his sixth fight.” J.P.V.D. Balsdon, however, has a different view: It would seem probable that, after a very good fight, a slave would be given his freedom, and a number of inscriptions have been interpreted as showing this happening. “Lib viii,” for instance, has been taken as indicating that a slave gladiator was given his freedom—“liberatus’ [having been freed]—after his eighth fight. But this interpretation is wrong. “Lib.” stands for “liber” [free], and shows that the man was an “auctoratus” [a hired, non-slave gladiator] and not a slave, and the following figure gives the number of engagements he fought.

Sources: CIL 6.10196. Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969.

Appuleius Diocles (charioteer). Of all the Roman charioteers known to us today, Appuleius Diocles was certainly the most successful, the most durable, and the best attested. He was born in 104 ce in Lusitania (modern Portugal). The details of his career, which spanned 24 years, from 122 to 146, have been preserved in the form of a lengthy inscription. The text of this document indicates that Diocles was 42 years, seven months, and 23 days old when it was created. Almost certainly, the inscription served to commemorate and celebrate his retirement from racing. Some analysts have wrongly interpreted it as a funerary monument, with the numbers of years, months, and days referring to Diocles’ age at death. However, neither the format nor the content of the inscription supports that interpretation. Diocles probably immigrated to Rome as a young man; the inscription indicates that he began racing chariots in 122, at the age of 18, as a member of the White faction. His first victory came two years later, in 124, while a member of the same faction. In 128, after 91 victories with the Whites in six years, he transferred to one of the most powerful and popular factions, the Greens. But except for two minor wins in bigae (chariots drawn by two-horse

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Appuleius

teams), he never won a race while a member of the Green faction. At first glance, this glaring lack of success seems strange. Why would a young and clearly promising charioteer fail to triumph even once with one of the factions for which winning was habitual? Some possibilities: 1. The large number of skilled, veteran drivers surely employed by the Green faction made it difficult for a new man to establish himself, no matter how successful he might have been earlier in his career with the Whites. 2. Diocles in some way offended the owners or managers of the faction, and was therefore denied access to the best horses and equipment. 3. He was injured during his tenure with the Greens. After all, charioteering carried with it a great risk of bodily harm, and physical disability would obviously hinder active participation on the racetrack. In any case, the years 128 to 131 are the most poorly attested of his 24year career. He spent some of that time with the Greens—but how much is uncertain—and he also served a brief stint with the Blues (for whom he won ten times) before moving on to the Reds, presumably in 130 or 131. He spent the remainder of his career with the Red faction, until his retirement in 146. Based on this information, it is possible to come up with a few assertions about his career that are not explicitly stated in the inscription. If he retired as a charioteer at age 42, and raced chariots for 24 years, then: (1) he began his career at age 18; (2) he was born in 104; (3) he won his first race at age 20; (4) he switched from the Whites to the Greens at age 24; (5) he started winning regularly with the Reds at about age 27. Over the course of his 24 years as a driver, he engaged in 4,257 races, winning an astounding 1,462. His victory total certainly ranked him with Rome’s best charioteers; indeed, the 1,000-victory plateau represented a major milestone, since a driver who had won that frequently was dubbed an agitator miliarius, a 1,000-race winner. Furthermore, in winning more than one-third of his starts, he outperformed the average driver by a considerable margin. The Circus Maximus, for example, could accommodate twelve chariots, which obviously meant that each driver had roughly one chance in twelve of winning (assuming, of course, that most races featured 12 chariots). The inscription contains a great deal of detail about the 1,462 wins. Noted at the outset is that he won 110 times a pompa, “from the parade.” The first race of the day was preceded by a ceremonial lap—the pompa—in which the drivers and their horses and chariots paraded once around the track. Diocles won 110 a pompa races in his career. It appears to have been particularly prestigious to win one of these kinds of races, since, as J.P.V.D. Balsdon states, an a pompa race “was one in which only experienced drivers competed because the horses were apt to be nervous after the procession.” That winning

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such a race was a highly coveted distinction and a feat requiring great skill is indicated not only by the level of competition (experienced drivers only), but also by its placement in the inscription, as the first category listed under the 1,462 wins rubric. The great majority of Diocles’ triumphs were achieved in singles races, contests in which each driver competed for himself. Diocles’ statistics suggest that singles races were the most common, and probably the most popular among individual charioteers. Of Diocles’ 1,064 singles victories, he won major cash awards 92 times: Size of Award 30,000 sesterces 40,000 sesterces 50,000 sesterces 60,000 sesterces Total

Number of times won 32 (three of the 32 were accomplished in six-horse chariots) 28 (twice with a six-horse chariot) 29 (once with a seven-horse chariot) 3 92

(This itemization clearly indicates that some races offered larger prizes than others, but the circumstances under which these payoff variations occurred is unknown. And since only 92 of his 1,064 wins earned him a major prize—praemium maior—it seems to be a safe assumption that the other 972 triumphs netted much smaller cash awards.) He also won 347 doubles races (in which two members of the same faction cooperated in order to try to ensure that one of them would win), and 51 triples races (in which three members of the same faction collaborated). The breakdown of his win total according to singles, doubles, and triples victories may be summarized thus: singles, 1,064; doubles, 347; triples, 51; total, 1,462. Several inferences can be drawn from the listings of the singles, doubles, and triples races. First, the fact that the singles category is so meticulously subdivided according to prize money won (whereas the doubles and triples are not) tends to support the notion that winning singles races was the most prestigious. Second, it appears that the singles races, as opposed to team races, were the most commonly run, since the large majority of Diocles’ victories was achieved in that category. Third, it is doubtful that quadruple races (where four drivers from the same faction collaborated) were run often, since Diocles evidently never won a race of that description. Furthermore, with four factions but only twelve starting gates in the Circus Maximus, a quadruples race would mean that one faction would be unable to compete. In addition to his 1,462 victories, he placed second 861 times, third 576 times, and fourth (for a 1,000 sesterces purse) once; he failed to place 1,351 times. The enumeration: firsts, 1,462; seconds, 861; thirds, 576; fourths, once; fail, 1,351; total, 4,251.

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This is the only place in the first eleven lines of the inscription where a statistical inconsistency occurs. Seven contests are unaccounted for; according to line six, Diocles competed in 4,257 races. Commentators have demurred when faced with resolving this inconsistency. It might be explained thus: Firsts: Seconds: Thirds: Prize-winning Fourths: Victories in bigae (for the Reds): Victories in bigae (for the Whites): Victories in bigae (for the Greens): Fail: Total:

1,462 861 576 1 3 1 2 1,351 4,257

He utilized all the popular racing strategies: occupavit et vicit (to seize the lead from the beginning and win), 815 wins; successit et vicit (to come from behind and win), 67 wins; praemisit et vicit (to deliberately fall behind and then win), 36; variis generibus vicit (to win in various ways), 42; eripuit et vicit (to seize the lead at the end and win), 502. The exact meaning of several of these terms is uncertain, especially the last one. The literal meaning of the Latin verb eripere is “to seize or snatch away.” In the context of the track, the word apparently referred to a race in which two drivers of opposing factions thundered down the home stretch neck-and-neck, with one of them pulling away at the end to seize or snatch the victory from the opponent. Interestingly, eripuit et vicit is the only one of the five for which additional details are provided in the Diocles inscription: prasinis CCXVI (from the Greens, 216); venetis CCV (from the Blues, 205); albatis LXXXI (from the Whites, 81). There is no mention of seizing wins with this technique from the Red faction, so the only possible conclusion is that all of these eripuit et vicit wins occurred while he was a driver for the Reds. Some historians, notably H. A. Harris, believe that a win with the eripuit technique was the most prestigious, ostensibly since such a race would be the most exciting for the spectators; any kind of athletic competition that comes down to the wire with the identity of the winner uncertain until the very end is always the most dramatic. In any event, that might explain why the eripuit technique was the only one for which an itemization is provided. A large portion of the inscription is devoted to the records which Diocles established, his expertise in comparison with other charioteers of his day, some of his innovations, and references to his best horses. For example, a Red faction driver by the name of Arvilius Teres was the first charioteer ever to have won more than 1,000 races (1,011 to be exact), and he also set a record for winning a certain event a certain number of times in one year; the inscrip-

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tion is corrupt at this point. It seems that the unknown event may have been the record for number of singles victory in one year, because Diocles claims that his 83 singles victories in that (unstated) year established a new standard. And, of course, his 1,462 career wins easily surpassed the total which Arvilius Teres procured. We are told that Diocles exceeded another teammate, Thallus, whose accomplishments were recorded in a lost portion of the inscription. The missing section must have referred to the number of Thallus’ victories, either in one year, or in his career, or perhaps both; for the inscription next states that Diocles (now called omnium agitatorum eminentissimus, “the most outstanding of all drivers”) won 134 times in his first year as a Red faction charioteer. This tends to support the contention that the missing part of the inscription referred to a victory total of Thallus, probably that he was the first member of the Reds to record 100 or more wins in one year. The mention of Diocles’ one-year victory total was probably meant to compare favorably with that of Thallus. Finally, the inscription reveals that two of his yoke horses, Cotynus and Pompeianus by name, participated in 99 of the 134 triumphs. (In a four-horse team, the standard number, the two inner horses were hitched directly to the yoke of the chariot, hence “yoke horses,” whereas the two outer horses were connected only by reins, and were called trace horses.) He also surpassed the victory and prize money records set by other well known drivers of his own and previous times. For example, a Green faction charioteer (whose name is lost due to a gap in the inscription) won 1,025 races, and additionally claimed the distinction of having been the first man up to that point to have won seven 50,000 sesterce prizes. Diocles shattered that record with his 29 victories in 50,000 sesterce races. A certain Pontius Epaphroditus won 1,467 times (five more than Diocles), but Diocles surpassed him in singles victories, 1,064 to 911. Diocles also gained more triumphs with the crowd-pleasing eripuit et vicit strategy, 502 to 467. Also noted are the win totals of three of Diocles’ other rivals: Flavius Scorpus, 2,048; Pompeius Musclosus, 3,559; and an unnamed driver who won 1,025. (The latter was very likely the same Green faction charioteer referenced above.) Their cumulative victory total was 6,632; of these, 28 brought with them a prize of 50,000 sesterces. Although Diocles’ number of career wins (1,462) was comparatively paltry, he took pride in the fact that his 29 victories in 50,000 sesterce races exceeded their combined total of 28 such wins. Diocles was also credited with a number of racetrack innovations. For example, he won two races with six-horse teams, and he even triumphed with a seven- horse team, the first time such a yoking arrangement was ever employed. Not only did he use the seven-horse team, but he won a 50,000 sesterce prize with it.

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An inscription (CIL 14.2884) found in the pricey retirement community of Praeneste (not far from Rome) honors a certain Gaius Appuleius Diocles, from Spain, “the top-rated driver of the Red faction.” Perhaps Diocles lived there after his chariot racing days were over. Presumably the fortune that he earned over the course of his highly successful career would have enabled him to pursue any lifestyle he wished. Sources: Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. CIL 14.2884. CIL 6.10048. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume IV (translated by A. B. Gough). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1968. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2006.

Asclepiades (pankratriast). Full Roman name: Marcus Aurelius Asclepiades. Asclepiades, who lived in the late second century ce, was something of an oddity: a Roman who participated in a Greek-style combat sport at the Olympic games and elsewhere. The Romans never displayed much interest in competing in any of the Greek athletic meetings, even prestigious ones like the Olympics, so Asclepiades’ career was unusual in that regard. And although his place of birth is uncertain, his fully Roman name suggests that he should be considered a Roman athlete. In a lengthy inscription which provides the details of his career, he claims to have been undefeated in the pankration (perhaps the most dangerous combat sport of all: a brutal combination of boxing and wrestling). He also asserts that at least once, he earned the title of periodonikes, signifying a championship in all four of the so-called Greek “crown” festivals in succession. Additionally, he boasts that he always played by the rules, that he never complained, and that he earned all of his championships, i.e., he never won on a bye. (Sometimes, especially in the pankration, a full slate of athletes could not be assembled, so those who did compete sometimes drew byes during the elimination rounds.) The text of the inscription states that he won the pankration at the 240th Olympiad (181 ce), as well as once at the prestigious Pythian Games (in Delphi, in honor of the god Apollo), and twice each at the equally highly respected Isthmian and Nemean Games. He also took pankration championships at important athletic meets in other places, including Argos, Rome, Naples, Athens, Smyrna, Pergamum, Rhodes, and Sparta. He retired at the age of 25, but later staged a comeback, in which he won yet another pankration championship, at a competition in Alexandria. Sources: Harris, H. A. Greek Athletes and Athletics. Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1966. Inscriptiones Graecae 14.1102. (A full translation of the inscription appears in Harris’ book.)

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Athletes (Athletae). Greek-style combat sports—boxing, wrestling, pankration—were never very popular among the Romans, and they certainly never attracted the following enjoyed by gladiatorial shows and chariot races. Nevertheless, scattered references to “athletes” (especially boxers and wrestlers) do occur in Roman literature. Possibly the earliest example of these kinds of contests occurred during the rule of one of Rome’s early kings, Tarquinius Priscus (reigned ca. 617– 579 bce). The historian Livy writes that this king founded the annual event called the Roman Games, which featured, among other spectacles, boxers (pugiles) imported from the nearby district of Etruria. Wrestling matches were also staged at the Roman Games. Livy also informs us that Marcus Fulvius Nobilior (consul in 189 bce) sponsored ten days’ worth of games in honor of his victory in the Aetolian War in Greece, and that he was the first one to exhibit a formalized athletarum certamen, a “contest of athletes” in Rome; most likely, the athletes were boxers and wrestlers. At about the same time, the playwright Terence noted in the prologue to his play Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law) that theatergoers would often vacate the premises in the middle of the play, if they heard a commotion outside indicating that a boxing match was underway; clearly, Romans of that time period “voted with their feet” when an opportunity to watch a pair of boxers go at it presented itself. The poet Horace wrote dismissively of the plebecula—the “ignorant commoners”—who would rise up right in the middle of a play and loudly communicate their preference to see boxers instead. Many sophisticated Romans had a contemptuous view of what they apparently viewed as non–Roman combat sports. The celebrated first century bce orator Cicero in particular made his feelings clear on the subject, on several occasions. For example, he wrote a congratulatory letter to his brother Quintus (who was then serving as a provincial governor in Asia), for attempting to downplay Greek-style athletic contests in his province. In a reply to his friend Marcus Marius (who had apparently written to Cicero about having missed a series of athletic contests sponsored by the famous general Pompey the Great), he remarked that he doubted Marius regretted missing the show; he reminded his friend that he even viewed gladiatorial games with contempt. And not only that, but Pompey himself admitted that his shows were a waste of time and effort. To illustrate his disgust with the Greek custom (in the Olympics and other athletic meetings) of competing in the nude, he quoted a line from the Roman poet Ennius (239–169 bce): “The beginning of scandalous disgrace is to strip naked among one’s fellow citizens.” And in the unsettled days and months after the Ides of March assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 bce, Cicero, like many Romans, did not know what lay ahead. In August, he embarked on a trip for Greece, but changed his mind and returned to Rome. In a letter to his close friend Atticus, he claimed that he

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Augustus

did not want to create the public perception that his intention was to attend the Olympic Games; nothing could have been more dishonorable, he wrote. Examples of some of the emperors’ deeds and projects that illustrate their apparent interest in Greek-style sports: To commemorate his naval victory at Actium (31 bce, ending the lengthy civil war that started in 44), Augustus established a quinquennial athletic festival which was likely modeled on the Olympic games. Suetonius notes that Augustus was particularly partial to watching boxers, especially native Italians, whom he liked to match up with Greek pugilists. He even enjoyed viewing untrained street brawlers mix it up in the arena. The emperor Caligula (reigned 37–41 ce) augmented gladiatorial shows with the addition of boxers from Africa and Campania (central Italy), and always athletes of the highest ability. Sources: Cicero, Letters to Atticus, 16.7; Letters to His Friends 7.1; Tusculan Disputations 4.33. Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities, s.v. Athletae. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972. Horace, Epistles 2.1. Livy, 1.35. Terence, Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law)

Augustus and Roman sports. Once he had consolidated his power and brought peace to the Roman Empire, the emperor Augustus (reigned 27 bce– 14 ce) crafted many economic and social initiatives, including an emphasis on the production of shows and games. The biographer Suetonius writes that he “surpassed all his predecessors in the frequency, variety, and magnificence of his public shows” (tr. Rolfe). Some examples: He sponsored games on four occasions in his own name, and 23 times in the names of absent or under-financed office holders. These shows were produced in various locations, including gladiatorial combats and mock beast hunts in the Forum, the amphitheater, the Circus Maximus, and the Campus Martius. He also produced athletic contests (probably boxing and wrestling matches) in the Campus Martius, where temporary wooden bleachers were constructed. Also on his agenda was a mock naval battle, which took place in an artificial lake located near the Tiber River. Since these events always drew large crowds, Augustus saw to it that their vacated homes were protected from burglaries by military patrols, who also had the responsibility of watching over those few home owners who did not attend the games. The Battle of Actium (31 bce) was the decisive engagement of the long civil war between Antony and Cleopatra on one side, Augustus on the other; Augustus triumphed. As a result of this success, he established a commemorative festival which was (for a time) celebrated every four years. The initial spectacle featured chariot races and a gymnastic competition, which was held in a wooden stadium built in the Campus Martius. There was also a gladiatorial show, in which prisoners (presumably captured in the civil war) fought one another. Augustus was indisposed for part of the celebration, but his

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trusted second-in-command, Marcus Agrippa, presided, to ensure that the games would continue. He also made it clear to the populace that he funded these shows with his own money, and that he did not raid the public treasury to cover the costs. In 29 bce, by a decree of Augustus, a shrine was dedicated to Julius Caesar. In conjunction with this dedication, many different kinds of entertainments were provided, including a performance of the Troy Game (a highly choreographed equestrian exhibition, by young men of noble families), and horse and chariot races featuring two and four-horse chariots. A noted senator by the name of Quintus Vitellius even fought as a gladiator. Animals both wild and tame were dispatched in mock hunts, including a rhinoceros and a hippopotamus, neither of which had ever been seen in Rome before this time. There were also battle reenactments, featuring Suebians (a Germanic people) pitted against Dacians (from eastern Europe). The celebration spanned several days, and even though Augustus was ill for part of the time and absent from some of the events, the shows went on. In 2 bce, he decreed that the consecration of the new Temple of Mars be celebrated with games and entertainments, under the supervision of his grandsons, Gaius and Lucius. These entertainments included the Troy Game, and the killing of 260 lions in the Circus Maximus. A gladiatorial show took place in the Campus Martius, and also a mock naval battle between two fleets called the “Persians” and the “Athenians.” Not surprisingly, the Athenians won. The Circus Flaminius was flooded, to serve as the venue for the demise of 36 crocodiles. The events produced in the Circus Maximus were not confined to chariot races, although races continued to be run there. But in addition to the chariots, spectators could also view foot racing and mock beast hunts; often, the hunters were young men from the highest social and economic classes. The Troy Game was also held in the Circus Maximus, although Augustus eventually discontinued these games, because of the danger involved. A young man by the name of Nonius Asprenas sustained a serious leg injury during one of the exhibitions, as did the grandson of a noted orator and literary critic, Asinius Pollio. Pollio made an angry speech denouncing this form of entertainment, thus persuading Augustus that the Troy Game should be removed from future shows. He also decided not to recruit men of high rank to perform as gladiators, since the Roman senate had passed a decree forbidding that practice. Augustus was never known for his strong constitution, and once, as he was leading the procession prior to chariot races in the Circus Maximus, he fell ill; nonetheless, he continued in the procession, but while reclining in a litter. On another occasion, during the gladiatorial games which he sponsored in honor of his grandsons, the spectators unexpectedly began to panic, for

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fear that the grandstand might give way. In order to reassure them that there was no danger, the emperor left his royal box, and took a seat in that part of the amphitheater which seemed to be the most vulnerable to collapse. He was concerned generally about crowd behavior at the games, and he was outraged by reports from Puteoli (in south central Italy, near Naples) that a senator attending a show there could not find a seat, nor did any of the spectators offer one to him. As a result, he prevailed upon the senate to issue a decree that whenever and wherever there was a public show, the first row of the venue must be reserved for senators. Furthermore, in any entertainments at Rome, he forbade representatives or delegations of nations allied to Rome to sit in the best seats. He prohibited soldiers from sitting with civilians, and he also designated special seating areas for married plebeian men, and another such area for underage boys and their chaperones. He refused to permit women to watch gladiatorial shows at all, except from the seats farthest from the arena floor; only the Vestal Virgins were exempt from this requirement. He was also hesitant to allow women to view boxing matches, except under the strictest guidelines, and only at specified times. The Circus Maximus was apparently equipped with private suites in its upper reaches (cenacula in Latin, perhaps approximating the sky boxes of modern stadiums), and Augustus customarily viewed the races from this vantage point. But sometimes, he would sit in the royal box, near ground level, his wife and children with him. He did not always attend the races, and when absent, he provided excuses and also arranged for other magistrates to take his place. But when he was present, he always displayed a keen interest in the action on the track, either because he feared the popular disapproval if he appeared bored, or because he genuinely enjoyed the spectacle. Beyond that, he customarily awarded special prizes and gifts, at his own expense, to the drivers. Augustus particularly enjoyed watching boxing matches, especially native-born Italian pugilists, whom he matched up with (presumably more skilled) Greek opponents. And while he appreciated the skills of professional boxers, he also derived pleasure out of viewing bouts involving untrained street fighters. In sum, he held all athletes in high esteem, and all the performers in the shows and games. He maintained and even increased their perquisites and their stipends, and ensured that they were never mistreated or shortchanged by any magistrates. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 51, 53. Suetonius, Life of Augustus 43–45. Rolfe, J. C. (tr.). Suetonius. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1913.

The Aurelian Guild. Roman gladiators were often organized into associations (familiae) or guilds (collegia). One such gladiatorial collegium is rep-

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resented on a long, second century ce inscription; this guild was apparently under the control of a man identified as Silvanus Aurelianus (hence, “Aurelian Guild”). The guild consisted of 32 gladiators, divided into four decuriae, or groups of ten men each; the fourth decuria, however, had only two members. The initial line of the inscription indicates that it was carved during the consulship of Lucius Aurelius Commodus (the emperor), and Marcus Plautius Quintillus; hence, the precise year was 177 ce. The third line informs us that two curatores (managers) supervised the gladiators: Marcus Aurelius Hilarus and Coelius Magnus. The first of these was probably a freedman of the emperor. The second, whose title was cryptarius, had charge over the underground chambers (cryptae) where gladiators may have customarily trained. (The biographer Suetonius, in his Life of Caligula, relates a parallel story about actors rehearsing in similar subterranean quarters.) All 20 of the individuals in the first two decuriae, as well as two in the third, are identified with their gladiatorial classifications (i.e., Thracian; retiarius; murmillo etc.), but the other ten are not identified thus. Probably this was because they were new to the guild, and had yet to be classified. The names of the 32: Decuria I Borysthenes, veteran Thracian Clonius, veteran hoplomachus Callisthenes, veteran Thracian Zosimus, veteran essedarius Plution, veteran essedarius Pertinax, veteran retiarius Carpophorus, veteran murmillo Crispinus, veteran murmillo Pardus, veteran provocator Miletus, veteran murmillo

Decuria II Vitulus, veteran murmillo Demosthenes, manicarius Felicianus, trainee, retiarius Servandus, trainee, retiarius Iuvenis, murmillo, spatiarius Ripanus, trainee, retiarius Silvanus, trainee, retiarius Secundinus, trainee, provocator Eleuther, trainee, Thracian Pirata, unctor

Decuria III Barosus, trainee, retiarius Aemilianus, recruit, retiarius Ulpius Europas Proshodus, trainee, retiarius Aurelius Felicianus Aurelius Felix Zoilus Paganus Flavius Mariscus Flavius Sanctus Diodorus Paganus

Decuria IV Aprilis, paegniarius Zosimus, Thracian spatiarius

The ten gladiators named in the first decuria were all veterans. No other

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information is provided about them (such as place of birth, ages, or the number of fights and/or wins). The ordering of the names seems purely arbitrary; even within their classifications, gladiators are separated. The Thracian gladiators Borysthenes and Callisthenes, for example, are listed first and third, respectively, with Clonius, a hoplomachus, second. The second decuria is similar both in form and in content to the first. Again, the names appear to be listed in random order, followed by each gladiator’s status or classification. (Even Silvanus’ namesake rates no better than seventh place on the list!) The reference to a manicarius, Demosthenes, is noteworthy. Manicarii (makers of protective sheaths, especially for the arms) are seldom, if ever, mentioned alongside active gladiators. The most striking difference between Decuria I and Decuria II is found in each group’s composition. Decuria I consists only of veteran gladiators; the second contains the name of one veteran (listed first), eight trainees (tirones), and one non-participant. The third decuria is composed of a mixture of gladiatorial statuses: two trainees, one new recruit, and seven individuals who lack specific identifying information. For the seventh and tenth people on the list, Zoilus and Diodorus, the name Paganus also appears. This may not be a name at all, but rather, the Latin word meaning “civilian,” or “townsman.” It seems possible that Zoilus and Diodorus were local men who were somehow involved with this collegium of gladiators, perhaps, but not certainly, as participants. The fourth decuria apparently consists of the two “left-overs,” the ones not selected for one of the first three decuriae. Finally, there is clearly a distinction made in this inscription between veteran gladiators, and those who are trainees or new recruits: the veterans are all clustered in the first and second decuriae. Source: CIL 6.631.

Bestiarii. Bestiarii were men trained to fight against wild beasts in the amphitheaters. Wild animals were reputedly first exhibited in Rome in 186 bce, by the military commander Marcus Fulvius Nobilior. Initially, these beasts served as display animals only, but eventually, combats between men and animals gained popularity. These beast fighters were generally drawn from the ranks of slaves, criminals, and prisoners of war—there seems to have been a distinction made between bestiarii and a better trained, more skillful class of hunters, the venatores—but sometimes (as with gladiators) free men volunteered. Seneca relates the story of a young man-about-town who had apparently squandered his fortune and was thus reduced to decide between becoming a gladiator or a bestiarius in order to make ends meet. On the other hand, the poet Martial celebrates the prowess of a bestiarius named Car-

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pophorus, whose beast-fighting resume included the killing of a boar so fierce that it would have shamed the famed mythological Calydonian boar slain by Meleager. The sturdy Carpophorus also dispatched a charging bear, as well as the biggest lion that anyone had ever seen, one that may even have impressed Hercules, slayer of the Nemean Lion. He also overcame a swiftfooted leopard. The sixth century ce Christian author Cassiodorus (in a letter to the emperor Theodoric, reigned 474–526) decries the inequities in monetary awards granted to wrestlers and musicians on the one hand, and beast hunters on the other. “For the hunter risks life and limb for the pleasure of the spectators, most of whom hope he will not emerge alive. And it is an unfair fight; the wild animals are clearly stronger. His only hope of survival is to somehow overcome the beasts by guile and trickery. And if he fails, he will die unburied, having been consumed by the animals he could not defeat” tr. Freese and Magnus. Cassiodorus suggests that this bloody spectacle was devised to honor the goddess Diana, for whom bloodletting was a source of pleasure. In one form of this game of man against beast, the hunter is equipped with a long wooden pole. Amazingly, he actually runs toward the animal against which he is matched; the animal reciprocates by running toward the hunter. At the last instant before contact, the man plants his rod into the ground and catapults himself like a pole vaulter over the fast-charging beast. In another kind of beast hunting, a large pole is embedded vertically into the arena floor, with four revolving screens attached to it, forming four separate enclosures. As long as man and beast remain in their own spaces, the man can actually become the pursuer. After describing several other unique contraptions used by the bestiarii, Cassiodorus ends his letter in the same way he began it, with a plea to the emperor to be generous in rewarding the unfortunates who put on these kinds of displays for the throngs of spectators. There were apparently schools which specialized in training bestiarii. Seneca writes of a ludus bestiariorum (school for beast-hunters), in the unfortunate context of a trainee who was so loath to participate in a scheduled hunt that he committed suicide. Sources: Cassiodorus, Variae 5.42. Friedlaender, Ludwig (tr. J. H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus). Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Martial, On the Spectacles 17. Seneca, Moral Epistles 87.

Betting on chariot races. The lure of obtaining something for nothing has always motivated human beings to risk their money, whether it be in a lottery, a get-rich-quick scheme, or bets on the outcomes of a roll of the dice, the right combination of playing cards, or the winners of popular sporting events.

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The Romans enjoyed wagering and gambling, and in this regard, they were no different than people of any time period. Even some of the emperors were notorious gamblers. Augustus, who was noted for his crackdowns on various forms of moral and social laxness, was surprisingly open-minded when it came to gambling. He enjoyed taking part in games of chance, even when he was an old man, and not only during holidays like the Saturnalia, when such license was acceptable; the biographer Suetonius informs us that he even gambled on profesti dies, “work days.” In a letter to his stepson Tiberius, he wrote that he and his guests rolled the dice during meals for two days in a row. He even provided details about the rules of the game and the size of the wagers. In another letter, he described his enthusiasm for extended play, and his insouciance about the amounts of money to be won and lost: We spent the Quinquatria [a festival in March, in honor of the goddess Minerva] very merrily … for we played all day long and kept the gaming-board warm. Your brother made a great outcry about his luck, but after all did not come out far behind in the long run; for after losing heavily, he unexpectedly … got back a good deal. For my part, I lost twenty thousand sesterces, but because I was extravagantly generous in my play, as usual. If I had demanded of everyone the stakes which I let go, or had kept all that I gave away, I should have won fully fifty thousand (tr. Rolfe).

In another letter, this one to his daughter, he wrote that he was sending her 250 denarii, the same amount that he gave to each of his dinner guests, in case they wanted to have a game, even during the meal. The emperor Claudius was so passionate about gambling that he even wrote a book on the subject (which, unfortunately, does not survive). He also liked to play while traveling in his carriage, and he had the interior of the coach specially modified to accommodate his game boards and dice. The poet Ovid noted that a number of books had been written on gaming and gambling, despite the low esteem in which such pursuits were held by Romans of a bygone era. Although dicing seemed to be the form of gambling in which the Romans most often indulged, they were not averse to laying down bets on the outcome of chariot races. However, there was no organized system for calculating odds or recording the amounts of wagers; off-track betting, professional bookmaking, tip sheets, and similar phenomena would have to await a much later time period to come into existence. Rather, it seems as if most bets were done spontaneously, on the spur of the moment, perhaps between two circus spectators seated next to each other. The satirist Juvenal, for example, writes that young men attended the races primarily for two reasons: to sit next to a welldressed young lady, and to make reckless bets. The poet Martial glumly reflects upon the likelihood that his latest book of poetry will be read only when his potential audience has tired of talking about, and wagering on, famous charioteers like Scorpus and Incitatus.

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Sometimes, wagers on the races were initiated not within the confines of the circus, but in other locations. In his description of Trimalchio’s lavish dinner party, Petronius notes that the chef challenged Trimalchio to a bet on the next races; the cook offered to pay Trimalchio (how much money is not stated) if the Green faction won. We are not informed whether Trimalchio would have been obligated to pay the cook if the Greens lost. The early Christian writer Tertullian advises his fellow believers to have nothing at all to do with the circus games. He claims that the crowds swarm to the racetrack in a maddened frenzy even before the start of the race. He suggests that this extreme behavior results in part from the spectators’ uncontrolled eagerness to lay down their bets. Ironically, there seems to have been little interest among the Romans in betting on the outcomes of gladiatorial bouts. Sources: Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Juvenal, Satire 11. Martial, Epigrams 11.1. Ovid, Tristia 2.471– 472. Petronius, Trimalchio’s Dinner 70. Rolfe, John C. Suetonius. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1913. Suetonius, Life of Augustus 71; Life of Claudius, 33. Tertullian, On Spectacles 16.

Boar hunting (Pliny’s account). Given the ornery nature of boars, to hunt them could probably be classified as a dangerous sport. In his Metamorphoses, the Roman poet Ovid (43 bce–17 ce) recounted the mythical hunt for the Calydonian Boar, and described the beast as a creature huger than bulls … and bigger than the beasts of Sicily. Both blood and fire wheeled in his great eyes; his neck was iron; his bristles rose like spears, and when he grunted, milk-white foaming spittle boiled from his throat and steamed across his shoulders. Only an elephant from India could match the tusks he wore, and streams of lightning poured from wide lips, and when he smiled or sighed, all vines and grasses burnt beneath his breath (tr. Gregory).

The scholarly, genial Pliny the Younger might not seem to be a likely candidate to participate in a boar hunt, but he did just that, and he describes his experience in a letter to his friend, the historian Cornelius Tacitus. He must have enjoyed a favorable outcome, because he notes in the very first sentence of his letter that he succeeded in taking down three boars, all of them excellent specimens, and apparently not at all similar to the ferocious monster portrayed by Ovid. He seems to think that Tacitus would be skeptical of his claim, so he emphasizes the point: “Yes, I did! Me!” Pliny took a somewhat nonchalant approach to the hunt; he did not even pack any spears or other weapons with him, but only hunting nets and writing materials, the latter for jotting down notes, so that even if he returned from the hunt with empty nets, at least he would have full notebooks. He urges

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his friend not to think lightly of this kind of strategy, observing that the mind is enlivened by physical exertion, and that the silence afforded to the hunter by his presence alone in the woods provides a major spur to mental acuity. Pliny concludes his letter by advising Tacitus to try the same method on his next hunting expedition: take a couple notebooks along with his bread basket and his water bottle. He might find Minerva (goddess of wisdom and intellect) in the mountain forests just as frequently as Diana (goddess of the hunt). Sources: Gregory, Horace (tr.). Ovid: The Metamorphoses. New York: Viking, published as a Mentor Book, 1960. Pliny the Younger, Letters 1.6.

Boat racing. No ancient Roman would have included on a list of favorite activities the chance to watch boat races, because boat racing was never an organized, competitive sport. There are a few scattered references to informal races, perhaps most notably in Ode 4 by the poet Catullus. He sings the praises of a boat which he owned, the fastest craft on water. The poet boasts that its speed was unsurpassed, and whether under sail, or propelled by oars, it could outpace anything that floated. The historian H. A. Harris observes that “this suggests informal [racing] challenges among friends.” However, there is one very notable exception to the general rule that the Romans had no interest in boat racing. The funeral games for Anchises, in Book Five of Virgil’s epic poem Aeneid, contains a vivid description of four ponderous ships engaging in a fierce and dangerous competition to win both prizes and prestige for their captains and sailors. The background: The epic hero Aeneas, a Trojan War refugee, was sailing the Mediterranean, along with some close companions as well as his father Anchises, in search of a new homeland, where they could all settle. That new homeland would ultimately be Italy, but before arriving in Italy, they landed on the island of Sicily, where they were warmly welcomed by the king, Acestes. The elderly Anchises died there; to honor his father and celebrate his life, Aeneas declared a series of funeral games, featuring the following events: a boat race; a foot race; a boxing match; an archery contest. The boat race was the first competition of the day. Aeneas, as the sponsor and supervisor of the games, presided. Four ships, the best ones of the fleet, entered the fray: Dragon, captained by Mnestheus; Chimaera, under the command of Gyas; Centaur, Sergestus’ ship; and Scylla, with Cloanthus in charge. Aeneas laid out the course: out in the sea, far from shore, a boulder prominently protruded from the water. Aeneas placed the green branch from an oak tree on the rock; the ships were to race to this spot, round it, and return to the starting point. The first ship back would be the winner. The ships lined up for the start, a signal was given, and off they went! The sailors all strained at their oars, churning the water with such force that

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it resembled snow. The crowd roared with excitement; some of the spectators even placed bets on the outcome. Chimaera and its sturdy captain Gyas snatched the early lead, followed by Cloanthus in Scylla, with Dragon and Centaur trailing. Gyas’ ship reached the rock first, where the appropriate strategy had to be employed: make the turn too close to the shallows and risk running aground; make the turn too widely, and risk allowing the second-place ship an opening to take over the lead. Chimaera’s steersman, Menoetes, chose the safer route: a wide turn. This course provoked an angry outburst from Gyas: Menoetes, what the hell! Why are you steering So far off to the right? Bring her in closer, This way, let the oars just miss the rocks, hug shore, Cut her close here on the left; let the other fellows Stay out as far as they like (tr. Humphries). But Menoetes stuck to his original course, apparently fearing the shallows more than he feared the displeasure of his captain. Seeing Cloanthus’ ship, Scylla, churning ever closer, and about to sneak past Chimaera and into the lead, Gyas once more yelled at Menoetes to make the turn more sharply; again, Menoetes ignored the command. Cloanthus saw his opening; he squeezed his boat past Gyas’ Chimaera, grazing the rocks as he went, and in the end, successfully executing the maneuver. Gyas’ rage knew no bounds. In his blind fury, he grabbed the prudent Menoetes and tossed him overboard into the ocean, meanwhile taking over the helm himself. Menoetes surfaced, and laboriously swam to shore, barely making it, weighed down as he was with his heavy clothing. He crawled up onto the rocks half-drowned, gagging, hacking, coughing up salt water. The spectators, when they saw him, laughed uproariously at the poor old man’s misfortune. Meanwhile, the captains of the two tail-enders, Dragon and Centaur, now saw an opportunity for advancement. Sergestus, the Centaur’s commander, slipped past Gyas, while Mnestheus, captain of Dragon, excitedly encouraged his men, reminding them of their previous courageous feats on the high seas, and exhorting them, if they could not win the race, to at least avoid the ignominy of finishing last. And his oarsmen, winded, sweatdrenched, and exhausted though they were, found redoubled strength, and pressed hard on Sergestus’ vessel. Sergestus was having some troubles of his own. In a sudden fit of madness, that otherwise competent sailor tried to take the turn too tightly, and caused his ship to collide so hard with the boulder that the ship almost dislodged it. Some of the oars were shattered by the impact, and the boat’s bow was hopelessly stuck on the reef. The cursing sailors grabbed whatever they

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could—broken oars, poles, boat hooks—and tried to push Centaur free of its unintended mooring. As for Mnestheus and Dragon (currently in fourth, and last, place): an opening. While Sergestus and his crew were working feverishly to free their ship, it was full speed ahead for Dragon. Mnestheus swiftly swept past Sergestus, “struggling, rock-bound, in shallow water, howling for help, in vain, and learning how to manage a boat when the oars are broken” (tr. Humphries). Next to be passed: Gyas and Chimaera. Gyas should have thought twice before pitching Menoetes overboard, because without an experienced helmsman, the ship could not maintain a straight course. Mnestheus passed by easily, leaving Chimaera in its wake. Only Cloanthus and Scylla remained to be overtaken. Mnestheus and crew were full of optimism and brimming with confidence; their mindset is expressed in one of Virgil’s most memorable lines, possunt quia posse videntur, usually translated something like “they can because they believe they can.” They cheered, they shouted, and as for the mood on Scylla, there was a momentary concern. They had pushed hard the whole way to set the pace, and they were in no mood to lose the race now, so close to the finish, victory almost in their grasp. And Dragon may well have overtaken them, surging from last place to first, had not Cloanthus sought divine intervention. So as to neglect no seadwelling deity, he prayed to all the gods of the depths, promising them the sacrifice of a snow-white bull. The divinities heard his plea and gave his ship a boost, an extra push on its way into the harbor, and the end of the race. So Cloanthus was proclaimed the winner, and prizes were announced for the captains of all the vessels. For Cloanthus, an expensive cloak, interwoven with gold, and embroidered with artwork depicting the mythological story of Ganymede, a young man who was swept into heaven to serve as the cupbearer to the gods. Mnestheus, whose boat finished second, received a coat of chain mail; the links were made of solid gold. To Gyas, commander of the third-place finisher Chimaera, were presented two bronze cauldrons, and bowls made of silver. The captains happily and proudly received their prizes, and dispersed into the crowd. But what of Sergestus? His crippled boat had not arrived in time for him to take part in the awards ceremony. But when it did slowly make its way into the harbor—oars missing, the planking on one side shattered—the spectators on shore broke out into hoots and jeers. Virgil compares Sergestus to a snake that has been run over by a wagon wheel or crushed by a rock hurled at it by a traveler; the snake hisses defiantly, while at the same time trying in vain to drag its broken body off the road. That, writes Virgil, was Sergestus: bent but unbowed. Aeneas, not wishing to renege on presenting an award to Sergestus (despite his damaged ship, and even more deflated ego), gave him a slave girl who specialized in weaving.

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Sources: Fairclough, H. Rushton (tr.). Virgil: Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid-VI. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printing 1916. Harris, H.A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Cornell University Press, 1972. Humphries, Rolfe (tr.). The Aeneid of Virgil. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951. Virgil, Aeneid 5.

Boxing. Like other Greek-style athletic events, boxing never attained widespread popularity in the ancient Roman sporting scene. There are scattered references to boxers in Roman literature; these references often occur in connection with some ceremony or celebration, or the dedication of a building or a monument. For example, the historian Livy writes that Rome’s fifth king, Tarquinius Priscus (reigned ca. 617–579 bce), exhibited boxers, mostly imports from nearby Etruria, during the dedication of the great racetrack, the Circus Maximus. The biographer Suetonius notes that the emperor Caligula (reigned 37–41 ce) put on display boxers from Africa and Campania in connection with gladiatorial shows. A character in the comic play Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law), by Terence, laments that both boxing matches and gladiatorial shows were more popular than the play, and that it was futile for the play to try to compete with those shows of pugilistic force for spectator support and interest. Much the same sentiment is expressed by Horace in one of his Epistles; often even a courageously daring poet or playwright is intimidated and cowed when theatergoers, who are more numerous but less cultured or intelligent than he and his class of people, clamor in the middle of a play for bears or boxers. These uncouth hooligans would rather watch a beast hunt or a boxing match than a sophisticated dramatic performance. Horace laments that the plebecula (a slightly pejorative word, something like “the great unwashed”) rejoice in such inanities. But the most complete description of a boxing match comes by way of Book Five in Virgil’s epic poem Aeneid. The hero Aeneas, in his role as the sponsor of funeral games in honor of his recently deceased father Anchises, announced to a large assemblage of Trojans and Sicilians (the games took place in Sicily) that four events would be contested: boat racing; foot racing; boxing; archery. For the boxing match, he offered these prizes: to the loser, a sword and helmet; to the winner, a prized bull. The Trojan Dares, a boastful sort, with a reputation as a champion boxer, immense in size and overpowering in strength, immediately jumped up and declared his intention of entering the contest. When he did so, the crowd of spectators murmured in astonishment at his bulk, emitting “ooh’s” and “aah’s” as they gazed upon him. Trojans and Sicilians alike knew of his pugilistic reputation; Dares had defeated the best of the best Trojan boxers. He was the only man who customarily sparred with Helen’s kidnapper, Paris, whose athletic skills apparently surpassed his reputation as a mediocre soldier. And Dares took on the hulking champion Butes, and laid him out, dying, on the

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sand. At first, no one dared to challenge him. It looked as if he would claim the bull by default, a forfeit. So Dares was confident, and with good reason. He prepared for the fight—if indeed there was to be one—by striding into the midst of the spectators, and warming up with a little shadow boxing, thrashing the air with mock punches, left and right, right and left, prancing and dancing, much like a modern boxer before a match. So certain was he of winning without a fight that he broke off his warm-up routine long enough to grab the bull by a horn, and loudly announce to Aeneas that the delay in finding an opponent had dragged on long enough; he, Dares, should be awarded the prize of victory. There seemed to be no opponent for him, from among that massed assemblage of soldiers and warriors. All the Trojans clamorously proclaimed that the bull should go to Dares. But seated among the throng was the Sicilian king, Acestes, and next to him, a veteran Sicilian boxer named Entellus. Entellus was an old man now, but Acestes badgered, even taunted him, by asking him if he was going to allow Dares to walk off with the bull without a contest. Acestes challenged him, reminding him that he was once the best boxer in all of Sicily, except, perhaps, for the legendary Eryx, a famous champion who overcame all opponents until he had the misfortune of losing a match—and his life—to Hercules. Like many aging athletes, Entellus was reluctant to step back into the competitive limelight; fear of embarrassment, of sullying his proud reputation, held him back. He claimed that he was too old to compete, that his strength had deserted him. Virgil used words like gelidus (“ice-cold”) and frigere (“to freeze”) to convey Entellus’ self-assessment; compare the modern use of similar metaphors to describe athletes or teams who have failed over a period of time to produce or to win. He lamented that if he were young and strong like that braggart Dares, he would not need money or prizes to motivate him to get back into the boxing ring. But Entellus eventually bowed to Acestes’ gentle—or not so gentle— persuasion, and agreed to take on Dares. The old man brought out the massive, ponderous gloves that once belonged to the famous Eryx; he was planning to use these fearsome gloves, which featured seven layers of leather, with plates of lead and iron sewn into the leather. The spectators were speechless, dumbfounded, at the sight of such equipage. As for Dares? More awe-struck than anyone, he recoiled from the gloves, as his former bravado began to trickle away. Entellus kept up the psychological attack: “Look closely. You can still see the blood stains on them, and the pieces of brain. I myself used these gloves, back in the day. But don’t worry, Dares, don’t be afraid. I won’t use them against you” [author’s paraphrase of the Humphries translation]. With that, he threw off his cloak (akin to rolling up his sleeves in the

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modern vernacular), revealing a still-muscular physique. Aeneas brought out two pairs of identical gloves, to make it a fair(er) fight. The match began. Both boxers exercised caution at first, bobbing and weaving, throwing occasional punches, landing some, missing with others. The advantage in the early going belonged to Dares. As the younger man, he was better able to handle this constant motion; Entellus was weak in the knees, and out of shape. Finally, Entellus showed his right hand, wound up, and took kind of a wild swing at his opponent, but too high. He whiffed, hitting nothing but air. Dares saw it coming, and he ducked. Entellus’ weight and momentum caused him to lose his balance; he fell to the ground, just like a mountain pine tree uprooted in a thunderstorm. The crowd arose, both Sicilians and Trojans. King Acestes rushed to his assistance. Was the risk worth it? Was this the end for the old man? Swiftly, an adrenaline rush kicked in! Entellus was embarrassed and irate; his anger revived him. He chased Dares all around the ring; the blows came incessantly, left, right, left, right, like hailstones clattering on a rooftop. With each hand, he pulverized Dares, spun him completely around. Finally, Aeneas had to step in to stop the fight, before Entellus killed him. Several of Dares’ friends carried him back to the ship; he was too woozy to make it under his own power. Now it was Entellus’ turn to boast. He proclaimed to the assemblage two things: how strong he was when he was young, back in his glory days, and how Aeneas saved Dares from certain death when he intervened to stop the fight. Then, with the adrenaline still pumping, he turned toward his prize, the bull, took aim, drew back his right hand, and dealt him a blow between the horns, through the skull, right into the brain. The bull, quivering, fell to the ground. The scene concludes with Entellus’ announcement that he was retiring for good, flushed with the satisfaction of going out a winner. Sources: Horace, Epistles 2.1. Livy, History of Rome 1.35. Suetonius, Life of Caligula 18. Terence, Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law) 33–41. Virgil, Aeneid 5. Humphries, Rolfe (tr.). The Aeneid of Virgil. New York: Scribner’s, 1951.

Bread and circuses. Panem et circenses, “bread and circuses” is a celebrated phrase coined by the poet Juvenal, in his tenth satire. He almost certainly meant it as an acerbic attack on the common people of Rome, who, he believed, had sold out to the power brokers and the politicians, and in his time cared only for food to eat and shows to watch. The phrase in context: in the eight lines preceding those two famous words, the poet rails against the turba Remi, the “dregs of society” (literally, the “mob of Remus”) who puts its faith in the luck of the draw, and who would blindly follow any tyrant or demagogue if the payoff were sufficient.

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He nostalgically recalls a bygone era when the Roman masses were truly a force to be reckoned with, people who, with their votes, once conferred honors, offices, and military commands upon worthy leaders. But now? They have metamorphosed into a self-emasculated mob, content with bread and circuses. Interestingly, Juvenal’s gloomy assessment of the temper of the times is echoed in one of the historical essays of Marcus Cornelius Fronto (ca. 100– 176 ce), who lived a generation after Juvenal. He described the emperor Trajan (reigned 98–117 ce) as a man who excelled in what Fronto called the pacis artes, the “arts of peace,” which in turn brought the emperor great popularity with Juvenal’s “mob of Remus.” In particular, Fronto noted that Trajan did not overlook the importance of supporting actors, gladiators, and charioteers, and the shows which they provided. He realized that the Roman people were devoted to two things more than all else: food subsidies, and entertainments, and that the smooth functioning of the government greatly depended upon the general accessibility of these entitlements. And of these two, shows were more important than food giveaways, because food only satisfied individuals, whereas the entire populace was kept happy and distracted by shows and games. Sources: Fronto, Marcus Cornelius, Preamble to History 17. Juvenal, Satire 10.

Caligula and Roman sports. (Full Roman name: Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus; he received the nickname “Caligula,” a Latin word meaning “BabyBoots,” as a child, when he accompanied his parents on a military expedition. The soldiers bestowed the name Caligula on him, a reference to the childsized soldier’s uniform he sometimes wore. Dates: 12–41 ce; reigned as emperor 37–41.) Although Caligula has a well-deserved reputation for imperial cruelty and perversity, as well as an appetite for dangerous sports (as long as others were the participants), his reign started propitiously. For example, when he made a short trip to some offshore islands not far from the Italian coast, citizens made vows and prayers for his safety. Nonetheless, he became sick, and as a consequence, some people promised to fight as gladiators if the emperor recovered his health, which, in due course, he did. He sponsored several gladiatorial shows in various places in Rome, and sometimes relinquished his right to preside over them, instead offering that honor to friends or officeholders. He also expanded the number of races in the Circus Maximus, such that the competitions lasted from early in the morning until dusk, and introduced entertainments in between the races: sometimes wild beast hunts featuring panthers, other times, the Troy Game. On some particularly resplendent race days, he decorated the Circus with red and green bunting (possibly

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in honor of the Red and Green factions), and saw to it that all the charioteers were drawn from the senatorial ranks. Sometimes, he ordered impromptu races to be run, in response to popular demand. According to the biographer Suetonius, the emperor’s reign could be conveniently separated into two parts: Caligula as man, and Caligula as monster. And he certainly did many monstrous deeds in the latter part of his rule. Amphitheaters were equipped with retractable awnings which covered the seating areas; these awnings he occasionally ordered to be withdrawn during the hottest times of the day, while at the same time forbidding any of the spectators to leave. Sometimes, he replaced the professional gladiators who usually fought in the arena with cheap substitutes, untrained recruits, and forced them to compete against conscripted heads of households, men of good repute except for some physical disability. When prices rose to high levels for the cattle used as feed for the beasts used in mock hunts in the arena, he simply replaced the cattle with condemned criminals. As noted earlier, sometimes individuals vowed to fight in the arena if the emperor might recover from an illness. On one occasion, Caligula compelled a man who had made such a pledge to fulfill it, watching him fight as a gladiator until he finally prevailed, and freeing him from his vow only after the man’s numerous pleadings. Another unseemly incident occurred in the arena when five retiarii who were paired up against a like number of secutores forfeited their match (sine certamine, “without a fight”). For this act of apparent cowardice, all five were sentenced to death, but during the passing of the sentence, one of the retiarii grabbed his trident (the weapon with which retiarii were equipped) and killed all the victorious gladiators. Caligula was shocked by this event, and bitterly criticized the spectators for watching it unfold. On the other hand, Caligula could also show some false bravado while masquerading as a gladiator. One time, he fought a sham match with wooden swords, against a gladiatorial trainee. When his opponent intentionally allowed Caligula to win the match, the emperor was so incensed that he stabbed the man with a real knife, and then claimed and brandished the palm of victory. Caligula apparently owned an endless supply of quirky behavior patterns when it came to his interest in dangerous sports. He once invited to Rome Ptolemy, king of the African realm of Mauretania, and treated him honorably. During the king’s visit, Caligula hosted him at a gladiatorial show, but when Ptolemy entered the amphitheater wearing a magnificent, attention-getting purple cloak, the spiteful and jealous Caligula ordered him to be executed. Caligula’s boundless envy also caused him to direct his wrath at a certain Aesius Proculus, a man of great physical stature and stunning good looks. (Because of his size and appearance, he was nicknamed Colosseros, “Giant Cupid.”) On a whim, the emperor ordered him to be hauled out of his seat

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in the amphitheater and then forced him to fight matches against two heavilyarmed professional gladiators, hoping, apparently, that Proculus would be killed, or at least disfigured. But Proculus upset Caligula’s hopes by winning both matches. The emperor was so incensed at this unexpected turn of events that he ordered the unfortunate “Giant Cupid” to be tied up, paraded through the streets of Rome, and then executed. The emperor forced unwilling conscripts into the arena on other occasions. He would (apparently randomly) demand that large numbers of men enter the gladiatorial ranks, and then he required them to fight, sometimes in one-on-one bouts, and other times in groups, like soldiers going into battle. He sought, and received, senatorial permission to engage in this sort of conduct, which set a dangerous precedent by enabling him to do nearly anything that he wished, even if contrary to law. He devised a nefarious money-raising method, involving the sale of gladiators. Those who survived the contests in the arena he sold at auction to high-ranking government officials and other men of means at excessively high prices (with Caligula, of course, keeping the profits); some of his buyers were eager to purchase the gladiators, while others were not, but they were compelled to do so all the same. Caligula himself presided over these auctions, to ensure that the bids would reach very high figures. Sometimes, buyers not under compulsion attended the auctions, even better from the emperor’s perspective, and all bidders were permitted to buy as many gladiators as they wished, even if their total purchase exceeded the number of gladiators which an individual was legally allowed to possess. These auctions were a great financial success; some people purchased gladiators because of a genuine desire to own them, others, in order to curry favor with the emperor. The ulterior motive for all buyers seemed to be a wish to stay alive by gratifying the emperor and thus avoiding attempts on their lives. To celebrate the birthday of his favorite sister, Drusilla, he ordered her statue to be brought into the Circus Maximus on a wagon pulled by elephants, and in addition, sponsored two days’ worth of free exhibitions, including horse races, wild beast hunts (in which a total of one thousand bears were dispatched). Athletes also performed. Caligula seemed to be irrationally jealous of skilled gladiators. When an essedarius named Porius had a good day in the arena, and in his jubilation freed his slave, it was an act of generosity applauded by everyone in the amphitheater—except Caligula. The emperor was so consumed with envy and rage that as he exited the building, he tripped on the fringe of his toga, and lost his footing. As he tumbled head over heels down the steps, he cried out: “The people that rule the world give more honor to a gladiator for a trifling act than to their deified emperors or to the one still present with them” (tr. Rolfe).

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More examples of Caligula’s inconsistent attitude towards both gladiators and charioteers: He put a band of Thracian gladiators in charge of his personal bodyguard. He reduced the weaponry and armor of the gladiators called murmillones, apparently because he disliked that gladiatorial classification, and hoped to see more of them injured or killed. When a certain gladiator named Columbus—whom Caligula disliked—prevailed in the arena, but had suffered a flesh wound in the process, the emperor ordered that the site of the wound be “treated” with a lethal poison. He loved the races, and became a diehard partisan of the Green faction. He reputedly tried to poison the drivers and horses of the other factions. He frequently shared meals with Green faction drivers, and even slept in their barracks. During one of the feasts which he sponsored, he presented a Green faction driver with a particularly munificent party-favor: gifts worth two million sesterces. On the day prior to a race, he often sent soldiers into the neighborhood of the Circus, to enforce his demand that silence be observed, thus enabling the horses to enjoy a sound night of sleep. In particular, he wanted his favorite race horse, the aptly named Incitatus (a Latin word meaning “Fleet Foot”), to be well rested for the next day of racing. He treated this animal royally: marble stall, ivory manger, purple blankets, and a collar studded with gemstones. He also gave this horse his own house, replete with furnishings and a staff of servants. He invited the animal to dinner with him; the bill of fare for Incitatus included golden barley, and Caligula drank to his wealth from golden wine chalices. It was even rumored that he planned to appoint Incitatus a consul. Caligula’s reign ended with his murder in January of 41. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 59. Rolfe, John C. (tr.). Suetonius. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1913. Suetonius, Life of Caligula 14, 18, 25, 26, 30, 32, 35, 55.

Calpurnianus, Publius Aelius Gutta (charioteer). Calpurnianus was a highly successful charioteer, employed by all four factions at various stages of his career. His birth/death dates, and his place of origin, are all unknowns. He won a total of 1,127 races: 102 for the White faction, 78 for the Reds, 583 for the Blues, and 364 for the Greens. The details of his career are preserved in a lengthy, tripartite inscription, CIL 6.10047: a, b, and c. The translation: 6.10047 a.: I, Publius Aelius Gutta Calpurnianus, son of Marius Rogatus, won with these horses, [while a member of the] Blue faction: Germinator, a dusky African [horse], 92 times; Silvanus, a brown African, 105 times; Nitidus, a gray African, 52 times; Saxo, a dusky African, 60 times. And I won the [following] major prizes: 50,000 sesterces once; 40,000 sesterces nine times; 30,000 sesterces 17 times.

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Calpurnianus 6.10047 b.: From the number of palms [i.e., victories] enumerated above, 1,127, I won 102 in the White faction. Sent back [remissus], twice. I won 30,000 sesterces once, 40,000 sesterces once. I won the first race of the day [a pompa] four times, and once with a horse that had never won before [equus anagonus]. I won 83 singles races, seven doubles, two triples. [There is no explanation for the discrepancy between 102 claimed victories, and the sum of 83 + 7 + 2, 92.] In the Red faction I won 78 times. Sent back, once. I won 30,000 sesterces once. I won one quadruples race, 42 singles, 32 doubles, three triples. In the Blue faction, I won 583 times. I won 30,000 sesterces 17 times, including one with a six-horse team, 40,000 sesterces nine times, 50,000 sesterces once. I won the first race of the day [a pompa] 35 times. In three-horse chariots, I won 10,000 sesterces seven times, and 25,000 sesterces once. I won once with a horse that had never raced before. I won once in the Capitoline Games. Sent back, once. I won 334 singles races, 184 doubles, 65 triples. In the Green faction, I won 364 times. I won 30,000 sesterces once, 40,000 sesterces twice. I won on foot toward the chariot [pedibus ad quadrigam] 61 times. I won the first race of the day six times. I won 116 singles races, 184 doubles, 64 triples. I made this monument while still alive.

96.10047 c.: I, Publius Aelius Gutta Calpurnianus, while [a member of] the Green faction, competed for the palm 1,000 times, with these horses: Danaus, a bay African, 19 times; Oceanus, a dusky [African], 209 times; Victor, a russet [African] 429 times; Vindex, a bay [African], 157 times. And I won the [following] major prizes: 40,000 sesterces three times, 30,000 sesterces three times.

This inscription provides confirmation that charioteers could and did switch factions, and that at least some of them raced for all four factions. If the information about his faction history is presented in chronological order (probable, but not certain) in 10047 b., then it would follow that he began his career as a member of the White faction, before moving on to the Reds, Blues, and Greens, in that order. One might speculate that the White faction, and to a lesser extent, the Red, were populated primarily by novice charioteers; and further, those that became sufficiently proficient could hope to gain a promotion to one, or both, of the (apparently) more powerful and popular factions, the Blue and Green. It is likely impossible to know how long a charioteer’s apprenticeship (if that is what it was) in the Whites or the Red would last, or how many races he would have to win in order to move up in the profession. The inscription does indicate that Calpurnianus achieved 180 of his 1,127 career wins (about 16 percent) as a member of the Whites and the Reds, so from that, it does seem plausible that he spent a majority of his career racing chariots for the Blues and Greens. It should also be noted that the inscription provides more information about his achievements with the Blue and Green factions than it does for his time with the other two factions. For example, in the case of both the Blues

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and Greens, we learn the names of four of the horses which he drove to victory, the number of those victories, and the amount of prize money they won; no similar data appear for his wins with the Whites and Reds. Also, there are more entries in the itemizations of his successes with the Blues especially, and the Greens, than with the Whites and Reds. His 1,127 career wins meant that he was qualified to claim the honorary title agitator miliarius (referring to a “charioteer who had won 1,000 times”), although that phrase does not appear in the inscription. In parts a. and c. of the inscription, there appear the specific names of horses which Calpurnianus drove to victory. But assuming that most of those races were run in four-horse chariots, why is only one horse “credited” with the win? Most likely, the named horses—Germinator, Silvanus, Nitidus, and Saxo with the Blues, and Danaus, Oceanus, Victor, and Vindex with the Greens—were all right-yoke horses. According to the historian H. A. Harris, the Romans deemed the right-yoke horse to be the key animal in a fourabreast yoking arrangement, so it seems plausible that a horse in that position would receive the credit for a victory. The inscription records that Calpurnianus won remissus twice as a member of the White faction, once with the Reds, and once with the Blues. Although the correct meaning of the term remissus is not certain, it appears to refer to a race which was too close to call, with two or more chariots crossing the finish line at about the same time. In such cases, the chariots would be “sent back” (the definition of the Latin word remissus) to run an additional lap (or more), to determine a clear winner. Pedibus ad quadrigam (literal meaning, “on foot toward the chariot”) is a poorly understood racing technical term. It apparently refers to a chariot race in which the drivers covered part of the course on foot. This style of racing must have been very rare; the Calpurnianus inscription is the only document we have from ancient Roman times in which this kind of chariot race is mentioned. 6. In the last line in part b., this phrase appears:—Hoc monumentum vivus feci, “I made this monument while still alive”—an implicit indication that some charioteers did not have that privilege. Chariot racing was truly a dangerous sport, and fatalities on the track happened from time to time. The phrase also makes it clear that this inscription is not an epitaph. A summary of his accomplishments: Wins with the White faction: 102 Wins with the Red faction: 78 Wins with the Blue faction: 583 Wins with the Green faction: 364 Total career wins: 1,127

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Cassiodorus 50,000 sesterce wins: One 40,000 sesterce wins: Nine 30,000 sesterce wins: 17 Total number of major prizes won: 27 Total number of races won with horses that had never raced: Two Total number of wins in the first race of the day: 45 Total singles wins: 575 Total doubles wins: 407 Total triples wins: 134 Total quadruples wins: One

Note that these wins total up to 1,117; ten are unaccounted for. As mentioned above, ten of his White faction singles, doubles and triples wins seem to have been inadvertently omitted from the official record. Most likely, he either won 93 singles (not 83), or 17 doubles (not seven) for the Whites. Sources: CIL 6.10047 a. b. c. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972.

Cassiodorus on chariot racing. Cassiodorus (full Roman name: Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus, ca. 490–583 ce), a statesman and writer, is best known for his Variae Epistulae (Various Letters) which he wrote on behalf of Gothic kings to notable contemporaries. Most of the letters have to do with administrative matters, legal affairs, and appointments to various offices, as well as the responsibilities of rulers and their subjects to implement and respect these measures. However, Cassiodorus occasionally concerned himself with other issues, including games and spectacles. He wrote a fairly lengthy missive to a certain Faustus, a high-ranking government official, on the matter of chariot races. He begins the letter to Faustus by relating the circumstances of a charioteer by the name of Thomas (the sole name which he references). This Thomas, described as an immigrant from some unnamed eastern country, has been given a monthly stipend by the emperor. Thomas was apparently a resourceful and successful driver, sometimes overcoming his opponents by his driving skills, and at other times by the sheer speed of his race horses. He won so frequently that other charioteers referred to him as a “sorcerer” (cf. similar nicknames like “Magic” or “Wizard” bestowed upon modern athletes). Thomas wore the nickname like a badge of honor, although apparently his opponents viewed the name as a reflection not of his skill or the speed of his horses, but rather as some sort of mysterious or divine power that assisted him in his victories. Cassiodorus next makes some adverse comments about the nature of chariot racing, referring to it as an undignified institution that causes squab-

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bles, promotes dishonesty, and creates resentments. He notes that in the earliest days of Roman chariot racing, no facilities existed for it, but that the emperor Augustus outfitted Rome with the magnificent Circus Maximus (although here he must be referencing renovations, because the racetrack had been in existence for centuries by the time Augustus rose to power). The location of the Circus Maximus, in the valley formed by the Palatine and Aventine Hills, is noted next. The author mentions the twelve carceres (the starting gates) and asserts that the number twelve was chosen in deference to the twelve signs of the Zodiac. He explains that at the start of the race, the twelve gates are simultaneously opened when the attendants pull back on the ropes which are attached to the gates. He claims that the four faction colors—Green, Blue, Red, and White—respectively symbolize the verdant springtime, the winter clouds, the scorching summer sun, and the autumn frost. He further states that the bigae (two-horse chariots) were thought to represent the moon, and the quadrigae (four-horse chariots), the sun, although he does not inform the reader of the origins of these beliefs. Next, Cassiodorus offers an interesting explanation of the logistics of the start of the race. It was some distance from the carceres to the near end of the spina; presumably, all twelve chariots would be jockeying for position in that very early stage of the race, with the possibility of numerous mishaps and crashes. The race might well have been over before it had even begun, thus depriving the spectators of what they had come to see: a seven-lap race. In order to prevent these potential disasters, the twelve charioteers had to remain in lanes that had been chalked out on the track, at the outset of the race. At some point between the starting gates and the spina, a break-line running perpendicular to the twelve lane markings was laid out. Once they passed this break-line, the charioteers no longer had to observe the lane restrictions, but could compete with each other for the inside position. A typical race covered seven circuits around the spina; the number seven was chosen, so says Cassiodorus, to represent the seven days of the week. The spina contained a number of interesting features, including two tall obelisks, places for spectators, and even a small canal where, when filled with water, dolphins could be seen. The author next turns his attention to the signal for starting the race— when the presiding magistrate drops a white handkerchief (the mappa)— and the origin of that custom. He asserts that when the emperor Nero attended the races, he sometimes insisted on eating dinner before the start. The impatient spectators made known their displeasure with this sort of delay, so he ordered that his dinner napkin be thrown from his royal box, as a sign that he had finished eating, and the race could begin. The gesture was then incorporated into all future races, whether or not a dinner was involved. Cassiodorus discusses the etymology of the word “circus” (circenses,

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“circus contests”), stating that it derives from a combination of two Latin words, circus and ensis, literally meaning “sword circle.” This term arose, he writes, from the fact that the earliest races were not held in elaborate buildings, but rather in meadows, where the topography and (apparently) swords used as turning posts or lane markers determined the length and shape of the racecourse. He also notes that images of eggs (as well as fish) were used as lap counters, and that each time an egg is removed at the completion of a lap, it signifies that that egg will give birth to something. He does not explain what is meant by “something”; perhaps an exciting finish, or a dramatic collision. The author concludes the letter with a fairly lengthy diatribe against the downside of the races: the deleterious effect which they can have on the spectators. The most fanatical of them tend to forget the bounds of proper behavior; they get carried away by the emotion and the excitement of the moment. Perhaps a Green faction driver is victorious; the fans of the Blues would be deeply depressed. But suppose instead that a Blue faction driver heads down the homestretch to certain victory; the large contingent of spectators favoring the Greens would be severely grief-stricken. They trade pointless insults; although they suffer no bodily injury, they act as if they had; they plunge into such fiercely vociferous arguments, one would think that the very safety of the country were in jeopardy. These fans, claims Cassiodorus, have no sense of reason or propriety, nor are they motivated by any kind of legitimate thought process. Rather, the races represent a form of escapism for them, a place where they can go for a few hours to forget about the cares of daily life. Source: Barnish, S.J.B. (tr.). The Variae of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992.

Catianus (charioteer). The first century ce Blue faction driver Catianus is referenced only once, in a brief and ambiguous poem (6.46) by Martial: “The chariot of the Blue faction is slapped repeatedly with the whip, and does not run. It’s doing a great thing, Catianus.” Several interpretations are possible. Perhaps one of the most likely of these is that Catianus was intentionally holding back on the horses, having been bribed to do so, in order to lose the race. However, the fact that he seems to have been vigorously plying the whip would suggest that he was not interested in a losing effort. More plausible is the possibility that he was employing one of the standard charioteering strategies: either successit, where he unintentionally fell behind at the start, relying on a finishing kick at the end to win the race, or praemisit, where he intentionally allowed his rivals to get the lead at the outset, and then came back to win. Either of these techniques might appear to the spectators that the horses simply are not running as they should.

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The translator and editor of the poem, D. R. Shackleton Bailey, offers an additional possibility. He raises the possibility of interpreting the words magnam rem as “making a lot of money” (instead of “a great thing”), thereby suggesting the hint of bribery; if Catianus can make the chariot and horses “not run,” he might be able to reap a handsome payoff for himself. Sources: Bailey, D. R. Shackleton (tr.). Martial. Epigrams. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993.

The Chelidonius list of Roman charioteers. A marble inscription, CIL 6.10046, of uncertain date lists a number of functionaries in a charioteering familia under the control of a certain Titus Ateus Capito Pannus. The assemblage is identified by the unusual Latin word chelidonius, which means pertaining to, or resembling, a swallow. The connection of this term to the world of Roman chariot racing has been a matter of debate; some see in it a reference to the short-lived Purple faction, on the basis of the purple color of certain species of swallows. The names and positions of the familia members follow: Name Marcus Vipsanius Migio Docimus Chrestus

Position not stated vilicus (steward) conditor (builder or organizer; the exact connection to the familia is not certain.)* Epaphra sellarius (the meaning of this term is not certain.) Menander agitator (driver)** Apollonius agitator Cerdo agitator Licaeus agitator Helles succonditor (assistant builder or organizer) Publius Quinctius primus (“first”; the exact connection to the familia is not certain.) Hyllus medicus (physician) Anteros tentor (“holder”(?); the exact connection to the familia is not certain.) Antiochus sutor (horseshoe maker) Parnacus tentor Marcus Vipsanius Calamus not stated Marcus Vipsanius Dareus not stated Eros tentor Marcus Vipsanius Faustus not stated Hilarus auriga (driver)**

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Nicander Epigonus Alexander Nicephorus Alexio [Name not extant]

auriga auriga auriga spartor (meaning uncertain.) morator (see below)*** viator (messenger)

*conditor. The Oxford Latin Dictionary defines this word as “organizer” in a charioteering context. CIL 6.10067 is cited in the OLD entry, where the word also occurs, in reference to a certain Marcus Antonius, a conditor of the Green faction. It seems doubtful that a faction manager is meant; perhaps a conditor was something akin to an equipment manager. But the true application of the word remains hidden. **auriga. Two words—auriga and agitator—are used for drivers in this inscription. The usual term, at least in inscriptions, is agitator, so it is puzzling why both words appear here. It seems unlikely that the author of the text substituted auriga merely to provide variety in diction. Possibly the aurigae were less experienced or less successful charioteers. The OLD does not draw a distinction in meaning; both words are defined as “driver,” or “charioteer.” ***morator. According to the venerable Latin dictionary compiled by Charlton Lewis and Charles Short, a morator was a person who, in foot races, “strove to embarrass and delay the runners for the amusement of the crowd.” The OLD definition: “a member of a [chariot] racing establishment, of uncertain function, perh[aps] one who held the horses back before the start of a race.”

Sources: CIL 6.10046. Glare, P. G. W. (ed.). Oxford Latin Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press, first published 1982.

Cicero on Roman gladiators. The Roman orator and statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero employed a surprising number of references to gladiators in his speeches and essays. Sometimes these references were metaphorical, other times literal, but always appropriate to the situation. Some examples follow: The case on behalf of Publius Sestius. Sestius held the office of tribune in 57 bce, and during this unsettled time in Roman history, he retained a band of armed men to protect him. In the following year, he was accused of criminal violence, apparently relating to the manner in which he deployed his bodyguard. Cicero, who had been exiled from March of 58 to August of 57, was back in Rome in time to successfully defend him in court; the orator’s speech still survives. Gladiatorial references are scattered throughout the speech in defense of Sestius. Examples:

Section Nine: Cicero recalls the Catilinarian Conspiracy of 63, and reminds the court that Sestius played a pivotal role in crushing it, by leading a contingent of the Roman army to Capua (a city southeast of Rome). Once there, he oversaw the expulsion of several of Catiline’s henchmen head-

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quartered in that place, including a certain Gaius Marcellus. This Marcellus had joined a gladiatorial school located in Capua, apparently for the purpose of honing his fencing and fighting skills; in one of his letters to his friend, Atticus, Cicero comments on the immense size of Capua’s gladiatorial school, noting that some 5,000 gladiators were enrolled in it. Section 77: Cicero devotes much of the first half of the speech to the violence and disruption caused in Rome by the activities of one of his fiercest enemies, Publius Clodius. In Section 77, he hearkens back to a day of particularly heavy bloodshed, as if a cadre of gladiators had been unloosed on the city “not … by any private person, nor by any plebeian, but by a patrician and a praetor” (tr. Gardner). The patrician and praetor reference apparently alludes to Clodius’ brother, Appius Claudius Pulcher, who, according to the editor of the speech, R. Gardner, “seems to have lent his brother … some gladiators he had assembled for the funeral games of a kinsman.” The historian Dio Cassius adds that Clodius had gathered together the gladiators for the purpose of disrupting a senatorial vote on a bill to recall Cicero from exile. (Cicero’s exile had been engineered by Clodius.) On this occasion, Clodius’ action worked; the gladiators burst into the proceedings, and injured many of the participants. Not surprisingly, the recall vote failed. Section 78: Cicero accuses Clodius of dispatching to the Forum a band of gladiatores novicii, “newly purchased gladiators,” ostensibly to put on a show; Clodius was a candidate for public office at the time, and it was customary for political candidates to sponsor such events. However, Cicero seems to be implying that the gladiators would be used not for public entertainment, but to incite violence. Cicero alludes to this incident again in Section 85, where he states that these gladiators were rounded up, and hauled in front of the Roman Senate, where they confessed to their evil intentions, were imprisoned, and then were freed through the intervention of one of Clodius’ political allies. Section 88: Cicero sometimes uses the Latin word gladiator metaphorically, to mean “cutthroat,” or “assassin.” In Section 88, he refers to Clodius as a gladiator, but not in the literal sense.

Section 115: Cicero once again turns his attention to the ludi, the “shows,” and in particular, gladiatorial combats and theatrical productions. He notes that often, rounds of applause for performances at the shows are initiated by paid claques. He tries to draw a parallel between spectator responses at the games, and the reception that Clodius (again!) receives when he appears in public. Apparently, not even the most energetic claque can overcome the booing and hissing that the public generally directs against Clodius.

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Sections 124–126: Cicero recounts an incident from the previous year (57), in which Sestius attended a gladiatorial show held in the Forum, where he was loudly applauded by the overflow crowd. It was the kind of event which attracted spectators from all social classes, and which was especially pleasing to them. The show, sponsored by Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, a celebrated and accomplished politician, honored his adoptive father, Quintus Metellus Pius, who had held the consulship in 80. Sestius waded into the midst of this assemblage, hoping by his favorable reception to serve as an indication to his (and Cicero’s) enemies of the goodwill which the masses felt toward both of them. Cicero claims that the crowd did not hold back, but showered Sestius with sustained cheering and applause. In a (probably exaggerated) description, the orator states that “there were heard such shouts of applause, that it was said that the whole Roman People had never shown greater nor more manifest unanimity in any cause” (tr. Gardner). Cicero offers the opinion that there had never been a larger crowd to see a gladiatorial show, and by their positive response to Sestius’ arrival, one could safely conclude that all Rome supported Sestius, and, by extension, Cicero also. Next, he directs some well-chosen barbs at one of the praetors for the year 57, Appius Claudius Pulcher (the same man mentioned in Section 77), and the brother of the infamous Clodius. Cicero says that at political meetings, when the matter of his recall from exile was on the agenda, this Appius would rise and put it to the crowd: did they want Cicero brought back? Appius had wisely hired a few mercenaries to shout out “No!” And yet when this allegedly popular politician attended the gladiatorial shows, no one in the crowd ever saw him arrive. Apparently, he crawled along inside the substructure, underneath the floor, and suddenly popped up through a trap door, to take his seat. Wags of the time referred to his mode of entry as the “Appian Way,” a word play on his name, which happened to be identical to the name of the famous Roman road, the Via Appia (named for a different Appius, of the fourth century bce). Yet whenever Appius did make his novel appearance, it elicited from the crowd hissing and jeering, not cheering and applause. Cicero claims that the cacophony was loud enough to upset not only the gladiators, but even the horses of the gladiators. (The translator of the text, R. Gardner, suggests that the reference is to gladiators who fought on horseback, the andabatae, and those who opposed them while fighting from chariots, the essedarii.)

Sections 133–135: In these sections, and the ones just preceding them, a new villain is introduced, one Publius Vatinius, the “best hated man of his time,” according to the Oxford Classical Dictionary. Vatinius was an ally of Clodius, and therefore an enemy of Cicero, although ironically, Cicero

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actually defended him in a bribery case a couple years later, in 54. But in 56, the two men were bitter adversaries. Cicero complains that Vatinius openly flouted one of his (Cicero’s) legal enactments, a law against electoral bribery passed in 63, which clearly prohibited political candidates from sponsoring gladiatorial shows within two years of their running for office. But Vatinius had successfully gained election to the office of praetor in 55, with the help of the shows that he put on during his campaign. Although Cicero reluctantly admires Vatinius’ public boldness, he argues that Vatinius should not be allowed to elude prosecution, no matter how pleasant his demeanor, nor how great his influence or financial resources. And yet Cicero knows that Vatinius has an ace in the hole: his gladiatorial familia. He had purchased gladiators that were handsome, awe-inspiring, and remarkable, precisely what the spectators would flock to the arena to see. Vatinius felt confident that the public acclaim he could earn by showing these gladiators would enable him to escape punishment for breaking the law against exhibiting them during an election campaign. Cicero wryly notes that Vatinius had been defeated a couple years earlier in an attempt to be elected aedile; in order to avoid a repetition of history, he gathered together these fine specimens of gladiators, mostly farm workers in their former lives, and classified some of them as Samnite gladiators, and the others as provocatores. And he did so openly, with no fear of any legal consequences. His defense? First, he claimed that he exhibited wild beast fighters only, not actual gladiators, and the law specifies only that gladiators may not be shown. (Cicero discounts this as a trivial difference.) Second, he argued that he would put on display only one gladiator (named Leo, the “Lion”), while the law refers only to gladiators in the plural. He said that the funding for the shows would come from the money which he would have spent on public entertainments had he been elected aedile. Cicero concludes this section of his speech by predicting that Vatinius will continue to disobey the law, and if prosecuted, will simply disband the proceedings by resorting to force of arms. The Tusculan Disputations. This is one of Cicero’s famous philosophical works; it is divided into three sections: on not regarding death as an evil; on overcoming physical pain; on dealing successfully with stress. In the second section, the author suggests that some segments of society, especially soldiers, hunters, and athletes, have learned how to overcome physical pain. He pays particular tribute to the abilities of gladiators in this regard, in Chapter 41 of the second section of the treatise. Here he asks his readers to consider gladiators, who are generally either condemned men or foreigners (not exactly the elites of polite society). They have been trained to endure pain to such an extent that, when fighting in the

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arena, they prefer to absorb a hit rather than to cowardly try to avoid it. There is nothing more important to gladiators than to please their owners, and to gratify the desires of the spectators. Even when they are reeling after taking a multitude of blows, their first priority is to learn whether their owners have approved of their performance, and if so, they willingly die. A well-trained gladiator never shows pain, never changes his facial expression, never disgraces himself in defeat. Cicero considers these attributes to be the product of preparation, practice, and experience. Even lowly Samnite gladiators can acquire these personal characteristics, and if that is the case, then should it not be all the more possible for a person of proper breeding to do so? He admits that gladiatorial shows can seem cruel and inhumane to many people, and maybe they are so. But back in the day when mostly criminals fought in the arena, there could be no finer examples of learning to deal with pain and even death. Sources: Cicero, On Behalf of Sestius 9, 77–78, 88, 115, 124–126, 133–135; Tusculan Disputations 2.41; Dio Cassius, Roman History 39. Gardner, R. (tr.) Cicero. The Speeches. Pro Sestio and In Vatinium. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1958.

Circus Maximus: architectural terms. Most Roman circuses shared common structural and architectural features, but the focus of this entry will be the Circus Maximus, certainly the largest and most celebrated of all Roman racetracks. Arena. The track itself was called the arena (Latin for “sand”); it was the same word used for the floor of the Coliseum. Some historians suggest that the track was strewn with sand, or perhaps even covered completely with it, in part to cushion the unshod hooves of the horses. However, a sand floor would tend to impede the chariots, so it is likely that the word arena is a sort of generic term for the scene of the action in both circuses and amphitheaters, and probably not to be taken literally. Spina. The spina was a long, low wall located in the middle of the racetrack. The chariots raced around this wall in a counterclockwise pattern. Originally, the spina was a stone wall, but during the reign of the emperor Trajan, it was expanded to include parallel walls, with a water-filled ditch in between them. The length of the spina was approximately 370 feet. Carceres. The starting gates, located at the far western end of the building, were called carceres (Latin for “jail cells”) because in size and design they resembled places of incarceration. The Circus Maximus was equipped with twelve starting gates, thus indicating that twelve was the maximum number of chariots which could be entered in a race. In order that each individual stall might be the same distance from the spina (thus ensuring each driver a fair chance to be the first to reach the desired positioning), they were laid

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out not in a straight line, but on the arc of a circle; the same principle applies to staggered starts in modern foot races run on oval tracks. In one of his poems, Ovid uses the adjective aequus (“equal”) to refer to the gates, indicating that their arrangement offered each driver an equal chance at the start of the race. It seems apparent from scattered references in the ancient sources that charioteers obtained their specific stalls by a lottery system: tokens of some sort were placed in an urn, and then as each charioteer’s token was drawn, he would be given the choice of which stall to occupy. The Circus Maximus was a long and narrow building. Its total length was nearly 700 feet, while the race course measured 650 feet. The width was 165 feet. It was located in the valley formed by two of Rome’s famous seven hills, the Palatine and the Aventine. Seven circuits around the spina generally constituted one race; laps were originally tallied by removing marble eggs—one egg for each lap completed— and later, by lowering images of dolphins. According to the historian Dio Cassius, dolphins were added because the (human) lap counters kept making mistakes about the number of laps that had been completed. Perhaps it was thought that the addition of the dolphins would somehow render such errors less frequent. The metae were three conical projections, located at each end of the spina. Their purpose was probably at least partially decorative, but they also served as turning posts, and they were tall enough that the charioteers would be able to see them well before they reached the turns, thus enabling them to moderate their speed accordingly. The pulvinar was originally a couch reserved for images of the gods. Later, the word also referred to the emperor’s private box. Augustus claimed to have commissioned the first such structure to be built in the Circus Maximus. Sources: Augustus, Res Gestae 19. Dio Cassius, Roman History 49. Meijer, Fik (tr. Liz Waters). Chariot Racing in the Roman Empire. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010. Ovid, Amores, 3.2.

Circus Maximus: history. The Circus Maximus was one of the oldest buildings in the city. It is generally agreed that construction of this great chariot racecourse began sometime during the Roman monarchy, perhaps in the seventh century bce. According to the historian Livy, a site was chosen, and work on the building begun, during the reign of Ancus Martius (reigned 642–617 bce) Seating areas were designed with the spectators’ social status in mind: the most distinguished citizens were allotted the best seats. The seats were supported by substructures, and were raised to a height of twelve feet off the ground. However, it seems likely that in its earliest days, the Circus

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Maximus was essentially an open field, with limited seating areas; its “glory days” as a magnificent structure were yet to come. Renovations and improvements of the Circus Maximus continued off and on through the next several centuries. Pliny the Elder credits Julius Caesar with undertaking a major expansion of the building, especially its seating capacity, which was enlarged to 250,000. Suetonius adds that Caesar ordered the entire building to be lengthened. Later writers postulated capacities of 385,000 or more, although those estimates seem unrealistically high. In any event, by the time the Circus Maximus had undergone its final expansions, it was easily the largest structure in Rome, dwarfing amphitheaters, theaters, aqueducts, or any other edifice constructed by human hands. The Circus Maximus was heavily damaged in the fire that consumed much of Rome in 64 ce (when emperor Nero infamously was said to have “fiddled while Rome burned”); the building had still not been fully repaired when Trajan became emperor over 30 years later, in 98. The historian Dio Cassius reports that Trajan ordered the crumbling sections to be taken care of, and also the entire structure to be enlarged. Pliny the Younger, speaking of the same actions, lavishly expounds: …the vast façade of the Circus rivals the beauty of the temples, a fitting place for a nation which has conquered the world, a sight to be seen on its own account as well as for the spectacles there to be displayed; to be seen indeed for its beauty, and still more for the way in which prince [i.e., Trajan] and people alike are seated on the same level. From one end to the other is a uniform plan, a continuous line, and Caesar [again, Trajan is meant] as spectator shares the public seats as he does the spectacle. [This, then, is a departure from the earlier practice of elevating and insulating the emperor in his pulvinar.] Thus your subjects will be able to look on you in their turn; they will be permitted to see not just the Emperor’s box, but their emperor himself, seated among his people—the people to whom you have given an additional five thousand seats. [The seating capacity of the Circus Maximus had been augmented by that number in Trajan’s renovation plans.]” (tr. Radice).

As in most sporting venues, the best seats in the house continued to go to the wealthy and the privileged, as they had since the time of the monarchy. The pulvinar (the special box seat reserved for the emperor and his entourage) enjoyed the best vantage point of all, directly aligned with the finish line. The “common people,” on the other hand, were relegated to seating areas some distance away from the racecourse. They sat on bleacher seats, with spaces marked off by lines drawn or carved into the surface of the seats. Sources: Livy, History of Rome 1.35. Meijer, Fik (translated by Liz Waters). Chariot Racing in the Roman Empire. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010. Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.102. Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 51. Radice, Betty (tr.). Pliny. Letters and Panegyricus. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1969. Suetonius, Life of Julius Caesar 39.

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Claudius and Roman sports. (Full Roman name: Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus, 10 bce–54 ce; reigned as emperor 41–54) Although the name of the emperor Claudius would never appear on a list of competitors in any Roman sport, he displayed an intense interest in the supporting and sponsoring of both gladiatorial shows and chariot races, as well as other entertainments, such as theatrical productions. In his biography of the emperor, Suetonius reviews the many contributions which Claudius made to the furthering of sports in Rome: He often sponsored chariot races in the track built on the Vatican Hill (located near the site of the current St. Peter’s basilica); he also instituted mock wild beast hunts after every fifth race. In the Circus Maximus, he ordered that the starting gates (carceres) be constructed of gilded marble; and further, that the conical turning posts (metae) at each end of the dividing wall (spina) around which the chariots raced also be made of gilded marble. Both the starting gates and the turning posts had previously been fashioned of wood and tufa. He gave preferential seating to Roman senators, who formerly had had to mingle with the common people when attending the races. Besides chariot races, he sponsored the Troy games, and also beast hunts featuring panthers, which were tracked down and dispatched by army officers. And he imported Thessalian horsemen from Greece—the Thessalians had a longstanding reputation as superb equestrians—who pursued wild bulls all over the floor of the racetrack. When the exhausted animals began to falter, the horsemen grabbed them by the horns, and wrestled them to the ground. Claudius was very active in promoting gladiatorial shows, far and wide, including one in the camp of the Praetorian guards (the soldiers who protected the emperor); it was an annual show in honor of his accession to the throne. Another of his shows regularly took place in the Campus Martius, near the Tiber River. This event featured a Claudian innovation: the distribution of a free meal, thrown together quickly. (Suetonius’ use of the word caenula, literally “little meal,” evokes images of modern tail-gating fare: small meals, hastily prepared.) Claudius was an active and enthusiastic spectator at the shows. For example, when the gold coins to be awarded to the victorious gladiators were tabulated, he often extended his left hand and counted out on his fingers the appropriate total; in a footnote, J. C. Rolfe, the translator of the biography, notes the impropriety of Claudius’ action; he should have kept his left hand “covered with his toga; [exposing it constituted] an undignified performance for an emperor.” He often made speeches to the spectators, encouraging them to thoroughly enjoy themselves, even referring to them as lords and masters, occasionally regaling them with flat, insipid jokes. An example of one of these groan-inducing jokes: sometimes, the spectators would call out the name of a popular gladiator, hoping to see him in action. On one occasion, they cried

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out the name “Palumbus,” a fan favorite whose name meant “Dove.” Upon hearing this request, Claudius promised that Palumbus would appear … if he were caught. On another occasion, the emperor had agreed to grant the wooden sword (rudis, a symbol of a gladiator’s retirement as an active participant in the arena) to a certain fighter, in response to an impassioned request by the gladiator’s four sons. The crowd warmly applauded the decision; Claudius used this event as a teachable moment, ordering that a document be circulated among the spectators, extolling the bearing of children, and noting that offspring could bring protection and esteem even to the likes of a gladiator. Could the draining of a lake be the setting and the impetus for a display of a competition? Claudius evidently thought so. The Fucine Lake, located in central Italy, had for centuries been a flooding threat to homes and farms in the area. Claudius, eager for glory, decided to drain the lake by having a trench dug through the surrounding mountains, to the Liris River, some three miles distant. He employed 30,000 men for the project; it took eleven years. But before the commencing of any of this work, Claudius decreed that a mock naval battle (naumachia) would take place on the lake. The sailors chosen to fight in this contest loudly uttered the famous lines “Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant!” (“Hail, emperor, those about to die salute you!”). When Claudius responded with “aut non” (“or not”), they interpreted his words to mean that they were discharged, and would not have to compete in the naumachia. The emperor was so annoyed with this unexpected turn of events that he actually considered the possibility of having all of them summarily executed. However, he finally jumped down from where he was seated, and wobbled along the shoreline (in Rolfe’s finely wrought rendition, “with his ridiculous tottering gait,” a reference to his chronically weak knees) to the place where the unwilling combatants were gathered. He was able to convince them to take to the ships through offering them incentives if they fought, and punishments if they did not. So the battle proceeded. Twenty-four massive triremes (battleships with three tiers of rowers), twelve on each side, took part. The signal to start blared from a silver horn, which was raised from the middle of the lake by some sort of contrivance apparently constructed especially for this event. Unfortunately, Suetonius does not provide information about the details of the battle, or its outcome. Sources: Suetonius, Life of Claudius 20–21. Rolfe, J. C. (tr.). Suetonius. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1914.

Commodus, Marcus Aurelius, and Roman sports. (Full Roman name: Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus, 161–192 ce; reigned as emperor 180–192; Marcus Aurelius 121–180; reigned 161–180)

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Marcus Aurelius, the last of Rome’s so-called “Five Good Emperors” of the second century ce, was no enthusiast when it came to the matter of combat sports. In his slim philosophical treatise titled Meditations, he mentions at the very outset that he is grateful to an (unnamed) tutor for teaching him not to become attached to the Blue or Green factions (nor, presumably, to the Red and White) at the chariot races, nor to support any kind of gladiator, whether lightly or heavily armed. In another place in the same work, he writes that gladiatorial combats are boring because of the repetition: the same kinds of bouts, fought in the same way. The historian Dio Cassius notes that even on those occasions when the emperor did attend gladiatorial shows, he ordered the fighters to compete like athletes (probably with moves or strategies that might be employed by boxers or wrestlers), and prohibited them from using sharp weapons, so averse was he to the shedding of blood. Instead, they fought their matches with rudes, wooden swords with blunt tips, weapons which were incapable of inflicting serious injury. At one of his visits to the amphitheater, the crowd insisted that a particularly carnivorous lion be displayed, a beast that apparently had been trained to favor the taste of human flesh. Marcus Aurelius yielded to popular demand and ordered the arena attendants to produce the beast. But when it was brought out onto the arena floor, the emperor refused to look at it, nor to grant freedom to its trainer, even though the crowd also demanded that he do so. He simply stated that the man’s deeds did not qualify him for emancipation. Although son and successor to Marcus Aurelius, Commodus failed to continue his father’s wise and providential policies. He was only nineteen years of age when he succeeded to the throne, and the glamour and power of his new office soon went to his head. He persecuted the Roman Senate; he promoted his own (often incompetent) cronies to important advisory positions while ousting men of better judgment; he manifested his delusions of imitating Hercules by sometimes adorning himself with a lion skin and wielding a club. And like one of his predecessors, the emperor Nero (reigned 54– 68 ce), he longed to be center stage on the racetrack, and in the arena. Dio Cassius describes the typical doings of Commodus as a gladiator, and as the indomitable enemy of wild beasts. Dio writes that Commodus commenced a day in the arena by killing all manner of domestic animals that were brought to him, and then followed that carnage by dispatching larger game, such as tigers, elephants, and even hippopotamuses. In one particularly bloody two-day stretch, he slaughtered five hippopotamuses and two elephants, as well as an unspecified number of rhinoceroses. On another day, he did away with a hundred bears. In the afternoons, following a lunch break, he customarily donned gladiatorial gear, and confronted human opponents in combat, although these

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were probably sham matches, considering that Commodus’ weapon of choice was a wooden sword. Upon entering the arena, and before putting on his gladiatorial trappings, he was usually clad in a white, long-sleeved silk tunic, laced with strands of gold. He was left-handed, a rarity in the world of Roman gladiators, and he apparently felt very proud of this idiosyncrasy. Dio wryly notes that Commodus of course won all his matches. And he was well compensated for his efforts; real gladiators were paid only a small stipend, whereas Commodus raked in one million sesterces every day that he appeared in the arena. Senators and other members of the Roman elite regularly attended Commodus’ public gladiatorial exploits, perhaps not wishing to offend the emperor by their absence. But the more anonymous members of the general public stayed away in droves. Some were embarrassed or ashamed to watch the proceedings, while others were afraid to attend, because rumors had spread that Commodus might actually aim his spears and arrows at the spectators, and randomly kill some of them. But the senators, too, felt the icy grip of fear, for on one occasion, Commodus cut off the head of an ostrich, walked up to the place where a group of senators was sitting, and displayed the bloody head in his left hand, while raising his sword in his right, and grinning maniacally, as if to suggest that he might do the same thing to the senators. And yet, they could hardly take him seriously, and had to stifle their smirks at the sight. Dio writes that they would indeed have broken out into a potentially fatal bout of laughing, had they not plucked leaves from the laurel wreaths which they wore, and by chewing on the leaves, conceal their laughter. Commodus also had aspirations to be a charioteer, but for some reason, he lacked the same outlandish sense of confidence in his charioteering proficiency that he felt when performing as a gladiator. So he never drove chariots in public during the day, but only after dark, on moonless nights. And when he did so, he always wore green, in deference to his preference for the Green faction. However, his ability with arrows and spears seems to have been legitimate, if the historian Herodian is any guide: Everybody was amazed by the accuracy of his shooting. Using arrows with curved tips, he shot at Moroccan ostriches, running as fast as their legs and flapping wings would carry them and, the tops of their necks severed by the force of the blow, they went on running, though decapitated, as if nothing had happened. A leopard charged and got its teeth into the hunter who challenged it, and was on the point of mauling him when Commodus at the vital moment struck it with his spear, killing it and saving its victim. A hundred lions were released from below ground. With a hundred shots he killed them all and there they lay, all over the arena, and people had plenty of time to count them and see that not one single shot had failed to gain its mark (tr. Balsdon).

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Commodus’ death was portended, appropriately enough, by omens seen in the amphitheater. Shortly before he was assassinated, he ordered the dignitaries in the crowd to wear woolen cloaks, something which they never did when present in the amphitheater, except as a sign of mourning at the death of an emperor. On the final day on which he performed as a gladiator, his helmet was carried through the gates customarily reserved for attendants transporting the bodies of slain gladiators. And the omens proved to be accurate, for shortly after this display, an athlete named Narcissus strangled the 31-year-old Commodus, while he was bathing. Thus departed the self-proclaimed Hercules, the only left-handed gladiator to 12 times defeat 1,000 men. Sources: Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. Dio Cassius, Roman History 72, 73. Herodian, History of the Empire from the Death of Marcus [Aurelius]. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 1, 6.

Consentius (charioteer). Gaius Sollius Apollinaris Sidonius (ca. 430–480 ce) was a poet, and also a Christian bishop. Twenty-four of the poems that he authored survive to the present time; the 23rd in the collection is addressed to his friend Consentius of Narbonne, a fellow poet whom Sidonius calls the columen decusque morum (“pillar and ornament of manners” [tr. Anderson]). But Consentius apparently did not spend all his days quietly chained to a writing desk; he was also a man of action, an expert horseman and charioteer, and he occasionally competed in chariot races. In Poem 23 (lines 304–427), Sidonius describes a race in which his friend participated: It was the duty of my Muse to record with joy your own great exploits when you were conqueror at the circensian games amid the thunderous plaudits of Rome. [The author next indicates that the race in which Consentius is entering will take place on the first day of the new year.] It is Caesar’s [i.e., the emperor’s] custom to provide games twice in that one day. Then a company of young men, all of the Court [i.e., courtiers, or members of the imperial household] goes through a grim mimicry [of the Olympic Games], with four-horse chariots racing over the course. Now the urn demanded you and the whistling cheers of the hoarse onlookers summoned you. Thereupon, in the part where the door is and the seat of the consuls, round which there runs a wall with six vaulted chambers on each side, wherein are the starting gates [the carceres], you chose one of the four chariots by lot and mounted it, laying a tight grip on the hanging reins. Your partner did the same, [and] so did the opposing side…. Servants’ hands hold mouth and reins and with knotted cords force the twisted manes to hide themselves, and all the while they incite the steeds, eagerly cheering them with encouraging pats and instilling a rapturous frenzy. There behind the barriers chafe those beasts, pressing against the fastenings, while a vapory blast comes forth between the wooden bars and even before the race, the field they have not entered is filled with their panting breath. They push, they bustle, they drag, they struggle, they rage, they jump, they fear and are feared; never are their feet still, but restlessly they lash the hardened timber.

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Consentius At last the herald with loud blare of trumpet calls forth the impatient teams and launches the fleet of chariots into the field. The swoop of forked lightning, the arrow sped by Scythian string, the trail of the swiftly falling star, the leaden hurricane of projectiles whirled from Balearic slings has never so rapidly split the airy paths of the sky. The ground gives way under the wheels and the air is smirched with the dust that rises in their track. The drivers, while they wield the reins, ply the lash; now they stretch forward over the chariots with stooping breasts, and so they sweep along, striking the horses’ sides and leaving their backs untouched. With charioteers so prone, it would puzzle you to determine whether they were more supported by the pole or by the wheels. Now as if flying out of sight on wings, you had traversed the more open part, and you were hemmed in by the space that is cramped by craft, amid which the central barrier has extended its long, low double-walled structure. When the farther turning post freed you all from restraint once more, your partner went ahead of the two others, who had passed you; so then, according to the law of the circling course, you had to take the fourth track. The drivers in the middle were intent that if the first man, embarrassed by a dash of his steeds too much to the right, should leave a space open on the left by heading for the surrounding seats, he should be passed by a chariot driven in on the near side. As for you, bending double, with the very force of the effort you keep a tight rein on you team, and with consummate skill wisely reserve them for the seventh lap. The others are busy with hand and voice, and everywhere the sweat of drivers and flying horses falls in drops on to the field. The hoarse roar from the cheering crowd stirs the heart, and the contestants, both horses and men, are warmed by the race and chilled by fear. Thus they go once around, then a second time; thus goes the third lap, thus the fourth; but in the fifth turn, the leader, unable to bear the pressure of his pursuers, swerved his chariot aside, for he had found, as he gave command to his fleet team, that their strength was exhausted. Now the return half of the sixth lap was completed, and the crowd was already clamoring for the award of the prizes. Your opponents, with no fear of any effort from you, were scouring the track in front of you with never a care, when suddenly you tautened the curbs all together, tautened your chest, planted your feet firmly in front, and chafed the mouths of your swift horses…. Hereupon one of the others, clinging to the shortest route round the turning post, was hustled by you, and his team, carried away beyond control by their onward rush, could no more be wheeled round in a harmonious course. As you saw him pass before you in disorder, you got ahead of him by remaining where you were, cunningly reining up. The other adversary, exulting in the public plaudits, ran too far to the right, close to the spectators. Then, as he turned aslant and all too late after long indifference, urged his horses with the whip, you sped straight past your swerving rival. Then the enemy in reckless haste overtook you and, fondly thinking that the first man had already gone ahead, shamelessly made for your wheel with a sidelong dash. His horses were brought down, a multitude of intruding legs entered the wheels, and the twelve spokes were crowded, until a crackle came from those crammed spaces and the revolving rim shattered the entangled feet. Then he, a fifth victim, flung from his chariot, which fell upon him, caused a mountain of manifold havoc, and blood disfigured his prostrate brow. Next the just emperor ordered silken ribands to be added to the victors’ palms and crowns to the necklets of gold, and true merit to have its reward, while to the vanquished in their sore disgrace he bade rugs of many-colored hair to be awarded.

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Sources: Sidonius, Vol. I, translated by W.B. Anderson, Loeb Classical Library Volume 296, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, First published 1936. Loeb Classical Library is a registered trademark of the President and Fellows of Harvard College.

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Crescens (charioteer and gladiator). Crescens, a charioteer of Moorish (north African) descent, raced chariots in the second century ce. He died at the young age of 22, presumably as a result of injuries suffered on the racetrack. Since he raced chariots for nine years, the obvious conclusion is that he began at the very young age of 13. He apparently spent his entire career as a member of the Blue faction, since the inscription (CIL 6.10050) that details his statistics and other information identifies him as a Blue faction driver, but makes no mention of any of the other three factions. He won his first victory driving a four-horse chariot in 115 ce, during the consulship of Lucius Vipsanius Messalla, on the birthday anniversary of the former emperor Nerva (November 15); the victory came in the 24th race of his career. The text of the inscription even records the names of the four horses: Circius, Acceptor, Delicatus, and Cotynus. Fast forward from Messalla’s consulship to that of Glabrio (124 ce), when he drove for the last time, on the birthday anniversary of the first century ce emperor Claudius (May 10). So in his nine-year career, he competed in 686 races, of which he won 47; additionally, he came in second 130 times, and third in 111 races. The historian H. A. Harris suggests that these relatively meager win/place/show numbers are to be expected for such a young and inexperienced driver. Of his 47 victories, 19 came in singles races (certamina singularum), 23 in doubles races (certamina binarum), and five in triples races (certamina ternarum). His racing strategies are also enumerated: occupavit [et vicit] (in which he won by taking the lead and holding it throughout), eight wins; eripuit [et vicit] (in which he won by snatching the lead in the final stages of the race), 38 wins; and praemis [it et vicit] (in which he deliberately held back, and then came from behind to win), one win. Finally, the total amount of his prize money appears: 15,558,346 sesterces. There was also a documented gladiator named Crescens, a first century ce retiarius. This Crescens is mentioned in several Pompeian graffiti, where his appeal to female fans, not his gladiatorial prowess, is the focus. Sources: CIL 6.10050. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II (translated by J. H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Sources on Crescens the gladiator: CIL 4.4353; 4356.

Curio’s rotating amphitheater. The flamboyant politician Gaius Scribonius Curio (d. 49 bce) was drawn into the turbulent world of political one-

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upmanship in the decade of the 50s. His rival, the aedile Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, had constructed an impressive theater which boasted a three-tiered stage, replete with 360 columns. The first tier was constructed of marble, the second, of glass, the third, of gilded planks. The columns of the lowest tier were each 38 feet tall; there were 3,000 bronze statues in the spaces between the columns; the structure could accommodate 80,000 spectators. How could Curio compete with this incredible edifice? How could his engineers design an even more impressive building than Scaurus’ massive theater? They built two large theaters, each balanced on a revolving pivot. In the morning, a play was produced on each of the two, which faced in opposite directions, so that the sound from one theatrical production would not interfere with the other. Then, the two theaters rotated in such a way that they came together to form one large amphitheater, in which Curio exhibited gladiatorial shows. (Pliny the Elder sharply and sarcastically criticized the audacity and the impropriety of the project: “Here the entire Roman people, as if on board two frail boats, was supported by a couple of pivots … doomed … to perish at some moment or other if the framework were wrenched out of place” [tr. Eichholz].) Eventually, the mechanism which rotated the theaters wore down, and the structure was taken out of service. But on its last day, a spectacular show was presented, consisting first of athletic contests, and then later, a gladiatorial show. Sources: Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36. Eichholz, D. E. (tr.). Pliny: Natural History. Volume X. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1962.

(A) Day at the races. Chariot racing was always a major spectacle in ancient Rome, and the schedule on race days was designed to reinforce chariot racing’s image as one of ancient Rome’s premier public and social events. First on the daily agenda was a ceremonial procession (the pompa) of drivers, horses and chariots, consisting of one lap around the spina. Following the procession, the horses and chariots were enclosed in the starting stalls, the carceres, to await the start of the first race of the day; generally, only veteran drivers competed in this race, and a victory in the day’s first race was considered especially prestigious. The twelve starting stalls were laid out on the arc of a circle, not in a straight line, in order to provide for each driver an equal amount of distance to cover between the stalls and the spina. The race began when the presiding magistrate dropped a white handkerchief (the mappa), which served as the official signal to start. The carceres were set at the far end of the stadium, some distance from the spina; at the outset of the race, all the charioteers headed for the right side of the nearer turning post, which, of course, would be the most favorable position on the

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track, “on the rail,” that is, as close as possible to the spina. The chariots raced counterclockwise around the spina; the race generally consisted of seven laps, called spatia. The most exciting—and dangerous—part of the contest occurred at the hairpin turns around the two ends of the spina; in a seven-lap race, a driver would have to successfully execute these turns thirteen times. For a driver holding a coveted position on the rail, this meant that the turn had to be taken sharply enough for him to maintain his position. But maneuvering around the turn too sharply might result in rolling the chariot. On the other hand, making the turn too widely would likely mean loss of the inside position, on the rail. The horses, too, had to be very disciplined at this point in the race. Assuming four-horse chariots (the usual number) were used, the animal closest to the spina, the left trace horse, would nearly have to come to a standstill, while the outermost horse, the right trace, would have to accelerate. Simultaneously, the two interior horses would have to proportionately adjust their speeds. Undoubtedly, the charioteer had to orchestrate this ballet, while also carefully watching his rivals’ maneuvers. Many a race was lost or won depending on how skillfully the driver and the horses handled the turns. Apparently, speed was not of primary importance. The relatively short straightaways and sharp turns discouraged the attainment of great speeds. The historian J.P.V.D. Balsdon has estimated that a five-mile, seven-lap race could have been run in about 15 minutes. If that calculation is correct, then the average speed would have been about 20 mph, although time lost on the turns was undoubtedly regained on the stretches. More important than speed was the ability of the driver to block off his opponents, to cause them to lose control of their chariots, or to crowd them, and thereby possibly causing them to collide with the spina, or another chariot. And all along the fringes of the track were professional cheerleaders, attested in several inscriptions. These hortatores (literally, “those who urge or exhort”) were, in the sober prose of the Oxford Latin Dictionary, ones “whose function was to urge on horses in a chariot race by various visual or auditory means.” Prizes for victorious drivers were generous, up to as much as 60,000 sesterces, more money than most of the spectators likely could make in months. It is possible that individual charioteers were not permitted to keep the entire purse; some of the money probably had to be remanded to their factions. But even if they were allowed to retain only half, that would still have been a significant amount of money. Some drivers, the top-ranked ones, undoubtedly had more opportunities to race than their less successful or novice colleagues. The most famous driver of all, the second century ce charioteer Appuleius Diocles, competed in an

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astounding 4,257 races over the course of his 24-year career, an average of almost 180 per year. Sources: Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969.

(A) Day at the shows. On the day or evening before a gladiatorial show, the show’s impresario (the munerarius) threw a lavish banquet for the gladiators who were to fight the following day. The event was apparently analogous to modern camera days or open houses, since the public was allowed to enter and observe the proceedings. Each gladiator prepared for the activities of the next day in his own way. The social historian Ludwig Friedlaender writes that some gladiators—the more dehumanized ones—ate and drank and gave no thought to what the next day might bring. On the other hand, the biographer Plutarch (ca. 46–120 ce) notes that many gladiators spent the evening making arrangements for the care of their wives, and in liberating their slaves, even though an expensive meal had been prepared for them. Other gladiators turned their attention to the preparation of their wills. When the day of the show dawned, the gladiators marched, or rode in specially decorated carts, to the arena; sometimes they were bedecked in purple cloaks edged in gold embroidery. It may have been customary for them to greet the emperor with the famous phrase recorded by the biographer Suetonius: “Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant.” (“Hail, Emperor, we who are about to die salute you.”) The procession generally occurred in the early afternoon; the morning was occupied with wild beast fights. After the gladiators were positioned in the arena, their arms and other equipment were examined by the munerarius, and then a series of mock warm-up fights began, called the prolusiones; participants in these bouts were often gladiators-in-training. The prolusiones afforded material for various metaphors often used by Roman authors. Cicero, for example, felt that the opening of a speech ought to be equivalent to a prolusio in the gladiatorial games: Nor is there any doubt that the opening passage of a speech ought not as a rule to be of a forcible, fighting character; but if in an actual fight to the death between gladiators, where the decision is made by the steel, nevertheless before closing, a number of strokes are made that seem not to be intended to inflict a wound but to be done for the sake of appearance, how much more proper is it for this to be taken into consideration in making a speech, where what is asked for is not so much force as entertainment! (tr. Sutton).

In the same discourse, Cicero suggests that the opening speech ought to include substantive arguments, and not be similar to gladiators who brandish weapons in preparations for their bouts, but which they will not use when the fight actually begins. Seneca, when speaking of acquiring wisdom, sug-

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gests that semantic games can be likened to the prolusio of the arena; how pointless it is to shadow-box, he says, once the starting signal for the bout has been given; put aside the lusoria arma (“play weapons”), he urges, and pick up the serious ones. During the feinting and fencing of the prolusio, the gladiators sometimes taunted each other with verbal insults, evidently as a means of psyching themselves up for the serious bout (decretoria pugna) to follow. These bouts were introduced by the sonorous blasts of a trumpet, and were accompanied by music from various kinds of horns, flutes, and piped instruments. The poet Juvenal writes of cornicines, professional trumpeters, who traveled from town to town, wherever a gladiatorial show was being produced, to offer their services. The fights proceeded in terms almost reminiscent of the Greek pankration, with no rounds or timeouts, until a verdict was reached. There were apparently no referees or rules, although there must have been some conventions regarding the procedure of the bouts; however, there is no evidence about the nature of these conventions. It is clear that some matches ended in draws; the technical term for such an outcome was stans missus. When a gladiator managed to wound his opponent, the crowd cried out habet, or hoc habet, “he’s had it!” At this point, the wounded gladiator could appeal for mercy, or continue the fray. Appeals were made to the munerarius, who generally followed the wishes of the crowd. The poet Martial describes a bout between two evenly matched gladiators, Priscus and Verus, who fought a marathon match without a resolution, until the crowd clamored for an end to it, with a discharge for both gladiators. The munerarius—in this case, the emperor Titus—ordered that the fight must continue, and so it did, until both men simultaneously signaled that they had had enough. A stans missus was declared; Titus presented each one with a wooden sword (rudis), indicating their discharge as active gladiators, and a palm of victory. “Two men fought, and each one was a winner,” according to Martial. Seneca notes that it is permitted to a gladiator to lower his weapon and throw himself on the mercy of the crowd. The spectators had at least two ways in which to demonstrate their decision about the fate of a wounded gladiator. They could wave handkerchiefs, presumably as a way of indicating that mercy should be shown. (Compare the waving of towels at modern sporting events to display support for the home team.) Martial writes of a napkin-thieving character by the name of Hermogenes, who attended gladiatorial shows mainly for the purpose of trying to swipe these napkins. The poet refers to a recent show in which an injured gladiator named Myrinus was hoping for a favorable verdict from the crowd; Hermogenes managed to filch four napkins on that day! Hermogenes would also show up at chariot races, and try to make off with the napkin which the presiding magistrate dropped to signal the start of the race.

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The other way in which the crowd could communicate its wishes was through a hand gesture, either thumbs up, or thumbs down. Although the thumbs down signal today universally conveys disapproval, and thumbs up the reverse, that may not have been the case with the ancient Romans. Some historians believe that the thumbs down gesture meant death, while others think that it signaled mercy. (The latter group suggests that the downturned thumb is tantamount to a request for the victorious gladiator to drop his sword, and spare the life of his defeated opponent.) The signal of doom: a versus pollex, which literally means a “turned thumb.” But ambiguity remains, because the Latin does not indicate in which direction (up or down) the thumb is turned. Whatever hand motions the Romans may have employed to indicate their opinions, it is clear that they had little regard for inferior gladiators. Trimalchio’s dinner guest Echion was less than magnanimous in his remarks about a show produced by a certain Norbanus: And what’s Norbanus ever done anyway, I’d like to know. A lot of two-bit gladiators and half-dead at that; puff at them and they’d fall down dead. Why, I’ve seen better men tossed to the wild animals. [Gladiators were apparently held in higher esteem than were beast fighters.] A lot of little clay statues, barnyard strutters, that’s what they were. One was an old jade, another was a clubfoot, and the replacement they sent in for him was half-dead and hamstrung to boot. There was one Thracian with some guts but he fought by the book. And after the fight they had to flog the whole lot of them the way the mob was screaming, “Let ’em have it!” Just a pack of runaway slaves. Well, says Norbanus, at least I gave you a show. So you did, says I, and you got my cheers for it. But tot it up and you’ll see you got as much as you gave (tr. Arrowsmith).

Once the outcome of the bout was decided, and a verdict reached on the fate of the loser, he was taken to the infirmary if the judgment of the crowd had been favorable. If he were deceased, his body was removed to the mortuary by an attendant dressed appropriately as Mercury, the guide of dead souls to the Underworld. The winner paraded before the crowd and received a victory palm, prize money, and possibly a crown. The lure of the arena held a firm grip on the combatants who participated in its violence, even upon those who received wounds but were spared by the whim of judgment of the spectators. Even in his exile from Rome, the poet Ovid felt compelled to return to his writing, likely the cause of his banishment, in the same way that “a defeated gladiator returns to the arena.” Ovid also notes that he simply cannot give up writing poetry, much in the manner of a wounded gladiator who swears off fighting forever, only to take up arms again when healthy, unmindful of the wounds which he had sustained. (Compare similar stories of severely injured athletes, who, upon recovering from their injuries, gladly return to the field, court, or rink.) After one or more good performances, a gladiator might earn a discharge,

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symbolized by the acquisition of a wooden sword, the rudis. But even after attaining the status of a rudiarius—one who had been presented the rudis, and hence, retired—some gladiators could not resist the chance to “suit up” one more time, especially if stipends were involved. When the young Tiberius staged a gladiatorial show in honor of his grandfather Drusus, he lured some veteran gladiators out of retirement by paying them the handsome sum of 100,000 sesterces each, to perform at his show. Sources: Arrowsmith, William (tr.). Petronius. The Satyricon. New York: New American Library, 1960. Cicero, Concerning the Orator 2.317, 325. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II. (Translated by J. H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus.) London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Juvenal, Satire 3. Martial, On the Spectacles 31. Ovid, Letters from Pontus, 1.5; Tristia 2.17. Petronius, Trimalchio’s Dinner 45. Seneca, Moral Epistles 117. Suetonius, Life of Tiberius 7.1. Sutton, E. W. (tr.). Cicero. De Oratore. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1942.

Domitian and Roman sports. (Full Roman name: Titus Flavius Domitianus, 51–96 ce; reigned 81–96.) Domitian, like many first century ce Roman emperors, had an intense interest in public entertainments which featured dangerous competitions. He regularly sponsored expensive contests on a huge scale, both in the arena and on the race track. In the latter venue, he exhibited combats between both infantry and cavalry units, along with the usual two and four-horse chariot races. He put on a sea battle in the Coliseum (whose floor could be flooded for such spectacles). Mock naval battles involving regular naval units also occurred in a man-made lake near the Tiber River, and these shows went on even during heavy rainstorms, with Domitian present. Wild beast hunts formed a part of many of his programs, as well as “night games”—nocturnal gladiatorial combats illuminated by torch light. These contests featured female as well as male gladiators. He always attended not only the shows which he sponsored, but also those put on by other officials, and he regularly produced two pairs of gladiators who were trained in his own gladiatorial school at these shows; these pairs fought last, and he marched them into the arena amid great pomp and circumstance. One of Domitian’s idiosyncrasies was his habit of being accompanied to all these contests by a small boy with an absurdly tiny head, and dressed all in red. He was seen to converse with this child all through the events, and their conversations quite often appeared to be serious. At some point in his reign, he turned from beneficence to cruelty. He ordered a certain (unnamed) but reputable head of a household to be hauled out of his seat at the games and thrown onto the arena floor to be devoured by dogs, all because the man had dared to claim that a Thracian gladiator was the equal of a murmillo but not the equal of the sponsor of the games, a

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reference to Domitian and his partiality to Thracian gladiators. Pliny the Younger, in his panegyric in honor of the emperor Trajan (reigned 98–117 ce), contrasted Domitian’s irrational behavior with the far more just and civilized Trajan. He noted that spectators at entertainments sponsored by Trajan could root for whichever gladiators they pleased, without fear of being charged with impiety and thrown to the dogs if they chose the “wrong” fighter. Pliny wrote that Domitian was demens, literally “out of his mind,” when he turned the arena into a court of his own perverse brand of justice, and a man who felt that he had been personally insulted if the spectators failed to support the same gladiators as he did. Sources: Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 33. Suetonius, Life of Domitian 4.

Driverless horses. The natural scientist Pliny the Elder provides three examples of driverless horses, to support his contention that “the cleverness of horses is beyond description” (tr. Rackham). He states that without doubt, chariot race horses perceive and respond to the cheering and the exhortations of the spectators. For example, during the races held in conjunction with the celebration of the Secular Games in 47 ce, a White faction charioteer (ironically) named Raven fell or was thrown from his chariot at the very beginning of the contest. But the horses proceeded as if the charioteer were still in control. They used all the strategies that a highly skilled driver would have tried to implement: they grabbed the lead at the outset of the race, and maintained their front-running position; they blocked off any opponents who tried to pass them; they used every trick in the book against their rivals. Although Pliny does not specifically state whether Raven’s driverless horses actually won the race, he implies that they did; he writes that when they reached the finish line (apparently after completing the seven laps of a typical race), they halted, as if they—mere beasts—were embarrassed to have triumphed over the humans driving the other chariots. Another, earlier, instance of equine cleverness occurred when an (unnamed) driver was ejected from the chariot, but the horses continued running. The race apparently did not take place in a circus, for Pliny records that the horses ran three times around the Capitoline Hill (one of the famous seven hills of Rome), and comported themselves in the same manner as if their course were still being directed by a driver. The third example was perhaps the most miraculous of all. A driverless chariot arrived in Rome from the town of Veii, where they had apparently won a race after throwing their driver, named Ratumenna. Pliny remarks that the gate through which they entered the city was named the Porta Ratumenna in the charioteer’s honor. Sources: Pliny the Elder, Natural History 8. 159–162. Rackham, H. (tr.). Pliny. Nat-

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ural History. Volume III. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1940.

Essedarius (pl. essedarii). An essedarius was a kind of Roman gladiator who fought from a chariot. Two chariots were typically employed, with two men riding in each of the chariots: a driver and a gladiator. When the chariots drew near one another, the gladiators dismounted—either through compulsion or voluntarily—to engage each other in combat, while drivers and chariots waited nearby. Essedarii made their first appearance not in Rome, but in Britain. The first mention in ancient Roman literature of essedarii occurs in Cicero, in two letters to his friend, the lawyer and jurist Gaius Trebatius. In the first of these, written in May of 54 bce, Cicero tries to console Trebatius, who has relocated to Gaul (modern France) but misses Rome and wants to return. Apparently, Trebatius was also planning to spend some time in Britain, for Cicero warns him not to be cheated by the essedarii there. Unfortunately, he does not explain the kinds of skullduggery which essedarii might attempt. In the second letter, penned about seven months later, in December, Trebatius is apparently still in Gaul, in part because he has no interest for a swim in the ocean (even though he loved swimming), or to watch a performance of essedarii. Cicero gently chides his friend for his lack of interest in observing these chariot fighters, given Trebatius’ enthusiasm for attending shows in Rome where andabatae (a category of gladiators who may have been required to fight blindfolded) were performing. Julius Caesar provides a description of the battle tactics of the British essedarii in his famous book about the war in Gaul. At the outset of a battle, he writes, they drive their chariots randomly, in every direction, in an attempt to distract the enemy and create chaos; and they simultaneously throw spears and javelins, to add to the confusion, and cause fear. Then, when they have penetrated enemy defenses, the riders vacate their chariots and engage in hand-to-hand combat. The chariot drivers, meanwhile, gradually withdraw from the scene of the action, and line up the chariots in such a way that they can readily return with them, if the battle should go poorly, and the soldiers need a quick means of retreat. This style of fighting enables them to employ both mobility (the horses and chariots) and stability (the soldiers) in the same package. Caesar writes admiringly of the work ethic of the soldiers; they practice their maneuvers constantly; the drivers become so adept at handling the chariots that they can even descend very steep slopes while still maintaining control. They can bring the chariots to a sudden halt, or turn on a dime (or a sesterce?), and even jump out of the chariot, run along the wagon tongue (temo), reverse direction, stand on the yoke, and then vault back into the chariot. All of these moves are done very quickly. Caesar admits

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that even he was startled, and perhaps a little intimidated, when he saw the essedarii perform these feats for the first time. He thought about engaging in battle with them, but then decided, prudently, to withdraw. The historian Ludwig Friedlaender believes that Caesar was the first to introduce essedarii as a regular item on the bill of fare at gladiatorial shows, and that they fought in shows much as they did in the battles which Caesar described. The likelihood that the essedarius was required to continue the bout on foot when forced from the chariot is implied in a letter from Seneca to his friend Lucilius. Seneca refers to a certain philosopher named Aristo, who customarily edited his writings while riding in a carriage, but apparently not when walking, like a dismounted essedarius. Interestingly, female chariot fighters—essedariae—were not unknown in the shows. Petronius’ Echion, a character in Trimalchio’s Dinner, speaks of an upcoming gladiatorial bout in which essedariae will be featured. The editor of Trimalchio’s Dinner, Martin S. Smith, suggests that “[t]he feats of British women charioteers during the [Roman] invasion of [Britain] in A.D. 43 and subsequently may have led to a demand for essedariae in the arenas of Italy.” Sources: Cicero, Letters to his Friends 7.6, 10. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume IV (translated by A. B. Gough.) London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Julius Caesar, Gallic War 4.33–34. Petronius, Trimalchio’s Dinner, 45. Smith, Martin S. Petronii Arbitri. Cena Trimalchionis. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975.

Etruscan origins of gladiatorial shows. The Etruscans were a vibrant, prosperous people living in central Italy. They were the most powerful cultural group in that part of Italy, prior to the rise of Roman civilization. The historian Livy asserts that in their heyday, the Etruscans dominated not merely central Italy, but the entire peninsula, from the Alps Mountains in the north, to the Sicilian straits in the south. Although the earliest Romans and the Etruscans were often in conflict— with the Romans ultimately subduing their rivals in the sixth and fifth centuries bce—Etruscan culture had a measurable and lasting impact on the Romans. Many historians, both ancient and modern, suggest that armed combat between individuals was an Etruscan custom which eventually found its way into Roman civilization, ultimately evolving into the gladiatorial establishment. The second century ce Greek social historian Athenaeus (quoting an earlier authority, Nicolaus of Damascus) states that the Romans staged gladiatorial combats not only at festivals and in theaters, but even at banquets, and that they borrowed the custom directly from the Etruscans. Some authorities also see a linguistic connection. The scholarly Isidorus of Seville (ca. 560–636 ce), who wrote a massive work on the etymology of Latin words,

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declares that the word lanista (the term for the overseer or general manager of a gladiatorial school) was of Etruscan origin. The notion that gladiatorial contests originated with the Etruscans is strengthened by an interesting passage by the early Christian writer Tertullian, in which he describes the means by which dead gladiators were dragged from the arena in Rome: a godlike, fearsome creature, equipped with satyrears and a mask with savage features, and wielding a hammer, carried out that grim task. This creature is said to closely resemble the Etruscan death god, Charun. Archaeological evidence provides a strong indication of the Etruscan origin of Roman gladiatorial shows. Although the Etruscan language remains largely a mystery, and has never been fully deciphered, their art work is a different story. They decorated their mausoleums with elaborate mural paintings, and the scenes and subjects represented in these paintings yield a good deal of information about Etruscan daily life. For example, the right main wall of a tomb discovered in Tarquinia (not far from Rome) contains several scenes of a vigorous, athletic nature. At the left end are spectators and a man holding a notched staff; the latter was apparently a referee. In the center are two wrestlers. To the right of the wrestlers, two other combatants are depicted. One of these is masked and hooded, and labeled in the painting as a phersu; he is attempting to entangle his opponent in a rope or a net. The second man holds a club in his right hand, and with his left hand seems to be attempting simultaneously to extricate himself from the rope and to ward off a creature resembling a dog or a panther biting into his left thigh. (Apparently, this feline/canine quadruped is an offensive weapon of the masked phersu, although the relationship is not clear from the painting.) The representation of the second man’s head has been somewhat damaged, but it appears that his head has been totally covered by a sack or a hood, thus effectively blinding him. It is possible that the Etruscan phersu is the forerunner of the retiarius of the Roman games, given that the retiarius was furnished with, among other items, a net with which to ensnare his opponent. Furthermore, a fourth century bce painted tomb from Paestum (in Etruria, the home area of the Etruscans) depicts two men in armed conflict, with a third man on the left side playing a flute, or similar musical instrument, and a fourth man on the right, apparently a judge or a referee; the two principals advance toward one another. Although the quality of the painting makes it difficult to comment on their accouterments—other than the fact that each man is helmeted, equipped with a shield, and carrying some sort of offensive weapon—the scene may well depict an early gladiatorial contest. The available evidence would seem to indicate that the Roman institution of gladiatorial shows did not originate with the Romans, but rather, it evolved from a model borrowed from the Etruscans.

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Sources: Athenaeus, The Learned Banqueters 4.154. Isidorus, Origins 10.159. Livy, History of Rome 1.2. Poulsen, Frederik (tr. I. Andersen.) Etruscan Tomb Paintings. Their Subjects and Significance. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1922. Sestieri, Pellegrino Claudio. The New Museum of Paestum. Rome: Instituto Poligraphico dello Stato, 1965.

Factions. (Latin factio; pl. factiones). All Roman charioteers were grouped into teams called factions; each faction was differentiated by color: Red (Russata); White (Alba, or Albata); Blue (Veneta); and Green (Prasina). The early Christian writer Tertullian states that the White faction’s name was inspired by the whiteness of winter snows, and the Red by the sun’s redness in summer. Additionally, he writes that the Blue faction reflects the blue color of the sea, and the Green, the greening of the earth in the spring. Originally, there were only two factions, the Red and the White. Sometime during the first century ce, two more factions were formed, the Green and the Blue. Partisanship was always at a high level, with most racing fans favoring one of the four factions; even some of the emperors openly backed one of the four. For example, the emperor Vitellius (reigned 69 ce) supported the Blues. The biographer Suetonius suggests that Vitellius (prior to his reign as emperor) received a choice military command because of his friendship with an influential court official who also happened to be a fan of the Blues. After becoming emperor, he took it personally when people showed disrespect toward the Blue faction, and he even ordered the execution of some of them, merely because they had spoken disparagingly about the Blues. Domitian (reigned 81–96) also apparently favored the Blues. He fancied himself as something of a charioteer, and when he drove chariots, he wore blue-colored garb. (Ironically, however, Domitian also expanded the faction total to six, by ordering the addition of the short-lived Gold and Purple factions.) The most popular faction, however, appeared to be the Green. Suetonius writes that the emperor Caligula (37–41) was so enamored of the Greens that he would sometimes take his meals in the building where they were stabled, and even sleep there. Emperor Nero (54–68) was also a partisan of the Greens. From a very early age, he was intensely interested in horses and chariots. Once while in school, he was conveying to a fellow student his dismay over a Green faction driver who had fallen from his chariot during a race. When his teacher reprimanded him for talking about such trivialities, he lied his way out of his predicament by claiming that he and his friend were discussing the famous scene from Homer’s Iliad, where Achilles dragged Hector’s body before the walls of Troy. The popularity of the Greens, however, extended beyond the emperors and also touched the common people. Trimalchio’s cook (in Petronius’ classic satire) evidently favored the Greens, as did several of Trimalchio’s friends.

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And in Juvenal’s famous Satire 11, he remarks that he would not even have to attend the races to know which faction had won. He would merely have to be in the vicinity of the Circus Maximus; he could gauge by the level of crowd noise whether a Green faction driver had crossed the finish line in first place. Some Green faction fans were so rabid, says Juvenal, that if their favorites had lost, it would be the racetrack equivalent of the Battle of Cannae (216 bce), often considered to be Rome’s worst military defeat ever. The social historian J. P. V. D. Balsdon provides a cogent description of the management and organization of a racing faction: The faction, once organized, embraced all aspects of racing-owner, stable, trainer, and driver. It was housed in a great building, probably below the Capitol, near the Circus Flaminius, and presumably it also had stables outside the city. It was a large organization, under the control of a dominus, or of domini in partnership. These were evidently business managers of great talent; they might be of equestrian rank, they might be men who had once been drivers. The staff of a faction included numbers of highly skilled specialists, for the organization bought and owned its own race horses; it must constantly have commissioned new chariots and have seen that its chariots and their equipment were in first-class order; and it was in the market the whole time for the best drivers.

Politics sometimes played a role in the decisions of the faction managers. Emperor Nero was so fond of horses and racing that he subsidized the feed costs for horses, especially those whose best racing days were behind them. In turn, faction managers, knowing that Nero could be counted upon to provide funding and logistics for the races, often disrespected the consuls and praetors who normally played a role in organizing the shows. They received some pushback from one of these officials, a praetor named Aulus Fabricius, who became frustrated when the managers refused to cooperate with him in organizing the contests. Fabricius devised a unique method of bypassing the condescending attitude of the managers: he trained dogs to pull chariots, and replaced the horses with his canine substitutes. Apparently, the managers of the White and Red factions did not want to run the risk of dog-drawn chariots permanently supplanting their horses, so they capitulated and entered the horse-drawn variety. But Green and Blue faction managers refused to take part. Finally, Nero had to step in; he offered to supply the prizes, which evidently placated the hold-outs, and the races took place. A number of unanswerable questions about racing factions inevitably arise. For example, it is known that charioteers could and did switch factions. Some, like the famous Appuleius Diocles, drove for all four factions at one time or another during their careers. But we know nothing at all about the terms on which charioteers moved from one faction to another. Could successful charioteers negotiate a switch to another faction (like modern professional athletes), one which might offer them better opportunities for victory,

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and hence, more money? Could faction managers initiate trades of charioteers? Were charioteers bound to their factions by some sort of formal or informal contractual arrangement? If bound by contracts, what happened when the contracts expired? Did individual charioteers become the ancient equivalent of “free agents”? We have a lot of evidence from ancient sources about the ways in which gladiators were selected and trained, but these sources are surprisingly silent about the recruitment and instruction of charioteers. Was a prospective charioteer required to undergo some sort of application process? Was he expected to be a proficient driver even before joining a faction, or did faction management provide him with the necessary training? Would he be allowed to participate in races immediately, or was some sort of apprenticeship period required? Other questions suggest themselves. Could charioteers be “cut” by faction management if they failed to win frequently enough? Could charioteers choose which horses to use in their races, or were horses assigned to charioteers by faction managers? Likewise equipment: did all charioteers in a faction have access to the same level of quality of chariots, reins, bridles, yokes, and other equipment, or did veteran charioteers receive preferential treatment in this regard? It is known that successful charioteers could earn prodigious amounts of prize money for winning races, but how much of that money were they allowed to keep for themselves? All of it? Or did some of it have to be turned over to faction management? If so, how much? And more questions. We know that the Blue and Green factions were more popular—both with emperors and with commoners—than the Red and White factions. Did this mean that a newly recruited charioteer would have to begin his career with the Red or White faction—start at the bottom, as it were, and work his way up—or could he join one of the more prestigious factions right from the beginning? To refer once again to Appuleius Diocles’ career path: the lengthy inscription on Diocles clearly indicates that his first faction was the White, and inscriptions on other charioteers imply that that was also the case with them. Was the White, then, sort of a “minor league team,” where promising young charioteering talents would hone their skills, in the hope of eventually progressing to the Blues or the Greens? The data on Diocles’ career trajectory present an odd and somewhat surprising twist in this regard. After racing chariots as a member of the White faction for his first two years, he then had short stints with both the Green and Blue factions, before settling in with the Reds, and spending the majority of his career with them. But given his status as the premier charioteer of his time—as surely he must have been—it seems very strange that he compiled his impressive statistics with one of the “lesser” factions. This, in turn, raises the question about why his time with the Greens and Blues was so brief. A dispute with faction

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management? An injury? A personality conflict with the other drivers? Something else? Barring the discovery of some long lost manuscript or inscription, the answers to all of these questions will likely remain hidden from view. Sources: Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, and San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. Dio Cassius, Roman History 67, 71. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Suetonius, Life of Caligula 55. Life of Nero 22. Life of Vitellius 7, 14. Tertullian, On the Spectacles 9.

(A) Fifth century bce Roman festival. In the early fifth century bce, the Roman dictator Aulus Postumius led an army which turned back the Latins at the Battle of Lake Regillus. As a result, the Roman senate proclaimed that commemorative games be held, as follows, according to the historian Dionysius of Halicarnassus. The leading magistrates, and the young men nearing adulthood, headed a procession which would wend its way from the Capitol, through the Forum and ultimately to the Circus Maximus. After the magistrates and the young men came the charioteers, driving their chariots, some pulled by four horses, others by two horses. Still other drivers rode unyoked horses. Next followed the athletes, those who would compete in the light and heavy contests, referring, perhaps, to foot racing (light), and combat sports like boxing and wrestling (heavy). After the procession, the games began. The first event: chariot and horse racing. This involved contests for four-horse chariots and two-horse chariots, as well as a horse race, a custom borrowed from the Greek Olympic model. The chariot races featured two ancient traditions: a contest involving chariots drawn by three horses, a yoking arrangement which had Greek precedents, but which the Greeks had abandoned by the fifth century. A threehorse chariot was pulled by two horses, harnessed abreast to the chariot’s yoke, with a third horse connected to one of the yoke horses by a strap or trace. The other tradition involved a foot race, which took place after the completion of the chariot race. In this kind of competition, two people rode in each chariot: the driver, and a second man, who dismounted from the chariot at the end of the race. The second man would then run an additional lap on foot, against his counterparts from the other chariots. (Dionysius does not address the knotty problem of whether the racer riding in the first-place chariot would have to remain at the finish line until all chariots had completed the race, or whether he could begin his lap immediately, thus giving him a head start over the other runners.) After the races (both the horse-drawn and foot varieties) were over, other foot racers, and also boxers and wrestlers, took center stage. Although

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Dionysius provides no details about the nature of the bouts, he does mention that crowns were awarded to the victorious athletes, between events. Source: Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 7. 72, 73.

Flavian Amphitheater (later known as the Coliseum). From the great multitude of wondrous things, I would select the Coliseum as the object that affected me the most. It is stupendous, yet beautiful in its destruction…. To walk beneath its crumbling walls, to climb its shattered steps, to wander through its long, arched passages, to tread in the footsteps of Rome’s ancient kings, to muse upon its broken height, is to lapse into sad, though not unpleasing meditation. But he who would see and feel the grandeur of the Coliseum must spend his hour there, at night, when the moon is shedding over its magic splendor. Let him ascend to its higher terraces, at that pensive time, and gaze down into the abyss, or hand his eye upon the ruinous ridge, where it gleams in the moon rays, and charges boldly against the deep blue heaven. The mighty spectacle, mysterious and dark, opens beneath the eye more like some awful dream than an earthly reality—a vision of the valley and shadow of death rather than the substantial work of man. Could man, indeed, have ministered either to its erection or its ruin? As I mused upon its great circumference, I seemed to be sounding the depths of some volcanic crater, whose fires, long extinguished, had left it ribbed and blasted rocks to the wildflower and the ivy. In a sense, the fancy is truth: it was once the crater of human passions. There their terrible fires blazed forth with desolating power, and the thunder of the eruption shook the skies. But now all is still desolation. In the morning the warbling of birds makes the quiet air melodious; in the hushed and holy twilight, the low chanting of monkish solemnities soothes the startled ear.—Thomas Cole (1801–1848; American landscape artist). Notes at Naples, 1832.

The Coliseum stands as one of the most famous architectural landmarks of the ancient world—and the modern. A massive amphitheater, dedicated in 80 ce, it was the scene of countless gladiatorial shows, wild beast hunts, and mock sea battles over the following centuries. To trace the structure’s origins, it is necessary to look back to the excesses of the emperor Nero (reigned 54–68). Nero plundered the national treasury in order to finance his opulently luxurious lifestyle. Perhaps the most blatantly ostentatious example of his profligacy was his Domus Aurea, the Golden House. The biographer Suetonius provides the details: the dimensions of its vestibule were sufficiently capacious to accommodate a colossal, 120-foot high statue of the emperor; the vestibule was so extensive that it enclosed a mile-long pond, more like an inland sea, which was encircled by all the trappings of both an urban and a rural setting: buildings; plowed fields; forests; meadows. All the walls of the house featured inlays of gold, which were in turn decorated with a generous supply of jewels and gems. The multiple dining rooms were outfitted with ivory ceilings, and equipped with panels that could rotate, releasing showers of flower petals on dinner guests, while pipes

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discharged gentle sprays of perfume. Sea and sulphur water filled magnificent baths. When Nero’s mansion was finally ready for occupancy, and he was able to move in, his only comment was that at last, he could begin to live like a human being. The assassination of Nero in 68 ushered in a power struggle, which was eventually won by the sober and capable general Titus Flavius Vespasianus, who ruled from 69 to 79 as the emperor Vespasian. In marked contrast to Nero, Vespasian was a man of simple tastes and a moderate lifestyle. He could also recognize a financial crisis when he saw one, and he quickly realized that Nero’s excesses had drained the imperial treasury of revenue. To remedy the situation, he placed Rome on a strict austerity policy, which was in force for much of his reign. However, toward the late 70s, when Rome seemed to be in financial recovery mode, the emperor apparently decided that the imperial purse strings could be loosened slightly, and he decided to reward the people for enduring his austerity program by providing them with a magnificent new venue for gladiatorial games. It would be built on the very ground occupied by Nero’s Golden House, which—fittingly so, in the eyes of many—would be demolished to make way for Vespasian’s new arena. The exact date on which construction began is unknown, although historians have speculated that the work started early in Vespasian’s reign; however, the amphitheater was not completed prior to the emperor’s death in the summer of 79. Work continued during the reign of his son and successor, Titus, and the structure was dedicated in 80. It was called the Amphitheatrum Flavianum (Flavian Amphitheater), after Vespasian’s family name, which was Flavius. (The name “Coliseum” was not used until many centuries later, during the Middle Ages.) The poet Martial favorably compares the magnificent new facility to some of the most famous architectural landmarks of the ancient world, including the Egyptian pyramids, the temple of Artemis at Ephesus, and the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, three of the seven Wonders of the Ancient World. And what a dedication it was! The historian Dio Cassius provides us with a detailed description of what occurred in the new amphitheater over the course of the 100 days that were devoted to dedicatory events. On the first of those 100 days, a series of gladiatorial combats took place, and also a wild beast hunt. A horse race was featured on the second day, and on the third, a mock sea fight involving 3,000 men, followed by a land battle pitting groups of infantrymen against each other. These infantrymen were divided into two teams, called the “Athenians” and the “Syracusans”; the Athenians triumphed. Animals as well as humans participated in combats: cranes engaged in fights, followed by four elephants. Nine thousand animals, both tame and wild, were slaughtered. Curiously, women were prominently involved in the

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killings, although, as Dio notes, none of these women held any rank in high society. Men fought as gladiators, both singly and in groups, both on land and on water. The new amphitheater could be flooded for mock sea fights; hence, the naval battles during the dedication period. But specially trained horses, bulls, and other domestic animals also fought with one another as watery combatants in the artificial lake. Titus also ordered that a mock sea battle be staged that would pit Corcyrean and Corinthian impersonators against one another. (The Corinthians, and the people of Corcyra, the modern island of Corfu, had a history of mutual resentment, which broke out into open warfare, from 435 to 431 bce.) These were the kinds of entertainments offered during the 100-day period, but there were also other attractions. For example, the emperor ordered that small wooden balls be thrown to the spectators from the upper levels of the amphitheater. These inscribed projectiles could be redeemed for various commodities: food, or clothing, or gold or silver jugs, or horses or other beasts of burden, or even slaves. The lucky recipients were instructed to take the balls to an arena official, who would in turn distribute the prizes. The elliptically shaped Coliseum occupies about five acres of ground. Its longer exterior diameter measures 615 feet, the shorter one, 510 feet. The corresponding lengths for interior arena, also an ellipse, are 281 and 176 feet. The exterior walls rise to a height of about 160 feet; they feature engaged columns (not free standing, but a part of the wall) of all three styles: Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. The entire structure exhibits the “arches-and-pillars” design pattern so commonly seen in Roman bridges and aqueducts. The Coliseum contains 80 of these arches, around the entirety of the building; all 80 were numbered, and served as entrances to the building. The exterior façade was once covered with marble sheeting, to give the illusion that the building was constructed of solid marble. The arena, so called because it was covered with sand—arena being the Latin word for sand—was the site of all combats and hunts. Beneath the sand were movable wooden boards, and under them, vaults and animal cages. When animals were loosed in the arena, it is assumed that a portion of the sand and wooden flooring was removed, and the animals raised to the surface in their cages by means of some sort of mechanical device. Provisions must also have been made for quickly flooding the arena floor for the mock sea battles, and then draining it just as quickly to accommodate the gladiatorial combats and wild beast hunts. The emperor, foreign dignitaries, the sponsor of the games, and other VIP’s occupied the prime seating areas: the first three rows above the arena. The rest of the seating was divided into four tiers, called maeniana. The first of these tiers was reserved for senators, and high-ranking members of Rome’s

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middle class, the equites; 14 rows of marble or stone seats, outfitted with cushions (pulvilli) were allotted to them. The second and third sections were called popularia and pullati, for wealthier individuals, and less wealthy, respectively. Women, as well as some of the pullati, were consigned to the “nosebleed section,” the fourth and final tier of seats. Finally, at the very top of the structure was a wooden walkway, where men were stationed who unfurled and withdrew the awnings (velaria) which covered the seating areas. Estimates of the seating capacity of the Coliseum vary widely, from 35,000 to 80,000 or more; the consensus seems to be somewhere around 45,000. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 66. Martial, On the Spectacles 1. Suetonius, Life of Nero 31.

Florus (charioteer). The inscription honoring Florus contains a carving which depicts a child holding reins in his right hand, and the palm of victory in his left hand. The text of the inscription does not provide any information about this driver’s dates of birth and death or his place of origin. Likewise, there are no references to factions or to numbers of victories. Perhaps the dearth of biographical data is due to the fact that Florus was apparently very young when he died. The first six words of the inscription: Florus ego hic iaceo bigarius infans: “I, Florus, lie here, a child, a two-horse driver.” The Latin word infans literally means “someone who cannot talk,” or in other words, a baby. Obviously, a baby would not be racing chariots, so in this context, the word could mean “one who cannot talk [because he is deceased].” However, it might also be understood to mean “someone who is very young,” and this interpretation would be supported by the carving of the child driver which accompanies the text. Also, a very young charioteer would probably not be sufficiently skilled to handle a four-horse team, and might be relegated to driving two-horse chariots; hence, the word bigarius, “one who drives a two-horse chariot.” But how young might Florus have been? It is impossible to say, although we do know that some charioteers began their careers early in life, perhaps even in their early teens; compare, for example, the second century ce Blue faction driver Crescens, who debuted as a 13-year-old. Much of the remainder of the text of the inscription indicates that Florus was eager to start driving chariots as soon as possible: cito … cupio currus, “I really want the chariots, and now!” (Alternatively, the historian H. A. Harris understands the passage to mean “while I was trying to put on speed.” Either way, the words seem to convey a young man’s impatience with anything that might delay his chance at charioteering glory, whether it be slow horses, or his youth and inexperience.)

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Foot racing

Unfortunately, he lost his life while chasing down his dream of racetrack glory. Sources: CIL 6.10078. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972.

Foot racing. Although foot racing would probably not be considered a particularly dangerous sport, injuries and mishaps occasionally did occur. The Romans generally did not have much interest in Greek-style Olympic sports such as foot racing, but a few scattered references can be found. The most famous of these is perhaps the race which Virgil describes in Book Five of the Aeneid, in the funeral games. These games, sponsored by Aeneas in honor of his recently deceased father Anchises, featured four events: boat racing, foot racing, boxing and archery; the foot race was run immediately after the boat race. Aeneas led a great crowd of spectators, mostly Trojans and Sicilians (the games were held in Sicily), to a plain surrounded by forested hills; the plain would serve as the race course. Many young men eagerly entered their names: close friends Nisus and Euryalus; Diores, a descendant of Troy’s King Priam; a pair of Greek-born runners, Salius and Patron; two native Sicilians, Panopes and Helymus; as well as many others, whose names have been lost in the mists of time. Aeneas, in announcing the contest, proclaimed that no one would go away empty-handed (the ancient equivalent of every runner receiving a T-shirt!): all competitors in this race would be given not wearing apparel, but two arrows made of high-quality, shining steel, and a double-edged axe inlaid with silver. In addition, the top three finishers would all receive olive wreaths. And for the man who came in third, a Greek war helmet; for the second-place finisher, a quiver filled with Thracian arrows. The winner would ride off on a horse fully furnished with the finest trappings. The runners lined up for the start, waiting for the signal, and when it sounded, they bolted onto the track, leaving the starting line behind, like rain pouring out of the clouds, eyes on the prize. The incomparable Nisus shot out to an early lead, far ahead of the pack. Salius followed far behind, in second place, and after him, Euryalus, even farther behind the leader. Trailing Euryalus were Helymus and Diores. Virgil’s account of the middle part of the race is sketchy; he jumps from the description of the start, to the final yards of the race, where Nisus, who apparently has led all the way, was closing in on the victory. He was so close; the well-appointed horse was almost his, when disaster struck. A pool of blood had collected on the track near the finish line, where sacrificial bulls had been killed. The race course became slick at that point, and Nisus was unaware of it. Thinking he was coasting to victory, and not paying attention to the slippery mess on the ground, Nisus began to wobble a little, and lose

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his balance, then recovered, finally slipped again and fell face first into the muck. But even in those frustrating circumstances, he did not forget his friend Euryalus. Scrambling up through the slime, he managed to get in the way of Salius—all the while making it look like an accident—and caused him to spin out, cartwheeling him to the ground. Euryalus darted past both of them and crossed the finish line, the unexpected winner, who claimed the first prize with a little help from his friend. Helymus and Diores finished second and third, respectively. Not surprisingly, a loud protest ensued immediately. Salius screamed that he had been cheated, that the first place prize rightfully should go to him. But Euryalus had public opinion on his side; he was humbler (the tears he was shedding proved that), he had a more agreeable personality, and he was more handsome. Diores’ loudly-articulated support in the dispute went to Euryalus, and not surprisingly. If the verdict were overturned, and Salius declared the winner, then Diores would have slipped to fourth place, and hence, no Greek war helmet. Aeneas, as the sponsor of the games, stepped in to mediate the squabble. His pronouncement: the order of finish will not be altered, and the prizes will be awarded accordingly. However, in a gesture of good will, he offered a kind of consolation prize to the seething Salius: a shaggy African lion skin, replete with gilded claws. This in turn provoked an angry outburst from Nisus. He complained that generous rewards should not be given to losers, and that he, Nisus, certainly would have won had it not been for simple bad luck. As he said the words, he raised his slime-encrusted arms, and stuck his muddy face directly into Aeneas’ line of vision. Aeneas chuckled, and ordered a shield to be brought out, one which Aeneas had apparently seized from some Greek warrior during a battle in the Trojan War. Thus the race concluded, with all competitors satisfied with the outcome and the prizes. Source: Virgil, Aeneid 5. Fairclough, H. Rushton. Virgil: Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I–VI. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1916. Humphries, Rolfe (tr.). The Aeneid of Virgil. New York: Scribner’s, 1951.

Fuscus (charioteer). CIL 6.33950, an eight-line inscription, concerns a slave-turned-charioteer named Fuscus. The translation: Fuscus, charioteer of the Green faction, lived 24 years. He won 53 races in Rome, two in honor of the goddess Dia [an ancient and obscure deity], and one palm of victory in Bovillae [a town on the Appian Way, about 12 miles south of Rome]. He won once in two races that were re-run. His first win, in the consulship of Gaius Cestius and Marcus Servilius [35 ce], came in his first race; he was the first charioteer ever to accomplish this feat. His fellow slave Machao [erected this plaque] in his honor. (Trans-

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Fuscus lation by the author, based on the one found at: http://www.vroma.org/~bmcmanus/fuscus_inscript.html.)

It seems plausible to assume that this inscription was carved in the year of Fuscus’ death; if so, it is one of the few charioteering (or gladiatorial) inscriptions to which a specific date can be assigned: 35 ce, the year in which Cestius and Servilius held the consulship. Since Fuscus was 24 years of age when he died—presumably in competition, although the text does not specifically state this—the year of his birth must have been 11 ce. The relatively unusual technical term rev[ocatus] appears in the fourth line of the inscription; the Latin word literally means “called back.” The correct interpretation of this term in the charioteering context has been a cause of some debate among historians. Some take it to mean “called back” to redo the start (perhaps because of a malfunctioning starting gate, or a team of horses that left before the mappa had been dropped). Others argue that it refers to a race that had to be re-run because two (or more) chariots crossed the finish line neck and neck, too close to determine the victor. Hence, they had to be “called back,” to run an additional lap, so that a clear-cut winner could emerge. The latter explanation seems to be the more likely one in this case; the term remissus (“sent back”) more plausibly refers to a re-start. Fuscus presumably raced chariots only for the Green faction, since no other factions are mentioned in the text. It seems a little unconventional that he began his career at the relatively advanced age of 24; many drivers started much earlier than that, in their late or even middle teens. Perhaps his slave status had something to do with his late start. His distinction of winning in his very first race—something of which he was undoubtedly justifiably proud— appears to have been an unprecedented and never-equaled accomplishment. As the historian H. A. Harris points out, even the celebrated Appuleius Diocles did not taste victory in the first two years of his storied career. In his excellent anthology of Greek and Latin epitaphs, the historian Richmond Lattimore references a lengthy inscription about a charioteer named Fuscus, although it is very likely that Lattimore’s Fuscus is not the same man mentioned in CIL 6.33950. Lattimore’s translation: Some of us of the [Blue faction] who were admirers of Fuscus and loved him have consecrated an altar to him from our own funds, so that all may know the monument and this token of love. Your fame was complete, and you deserved honor for your racing. You strove against many, and though a poor man, feared none. When you were hated, you always held your peace like a strong man. You lived fairly, but being mortal, you were fated to die. If you are human, seek for such a man. Stay, traveler, and read; and if you remember, if you knew the man as he was (for all fear fortune) say this only: Fuscus has the epitaphs due to death, he has his tomb. The stone covers his bones, it is well with him. Good bye, Fortune. We have shed tears for this good man; now the wine, and we pray that you may lie in peace. No one was like you.

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The chief reason that Lattimore’s Fuscus is very likely not the same man mentioned in CIL 6.33950 is the difference in factions; the latter raced only for the Greens, whereas the former was apparently a Blue faction driver. It also seems odd that there are no specific references in the epitaph to the statistical details of Fuscus’ career; perhaps his career was too short for him to compile a charioteering resume in the same manner as the Fuscus of the inscription. Sources: Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972. Lattimore, Richmond. Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962. http://vroma.org/~bmcmanus/fuscus_inscript.html

(A) Generous munerarius. The fabulist Lucius Apuleius, in his novel The Golden Ass, describes the fictional Demochares, a well-known sponsor of gladiatorial shows and games. This Demochares had planned to offer a spectacular gladiatorial contest, featuring fighters who would use all kinds of weapons. He was a very wealthy man of the highest repute, such that any shows which he put on were certain to be of the best quality. Apuleius writes that no one could accurately describe all the attractive aspects of one of Demochares’ shows (but nonetheless he will try to do so!): first-rate gladiators; fast and agile venatores (wild beast hunters); finally, condemned criminals who, because of their crimes, were destined to become a banquet for the beasts of the arena. Demochares ordered an enclosure to be fabricated, replete with towers and platforms, and decorated with floral designs, like a home, for the wild animals which would appear in his shows. He owned a multitude of beasts, and a wide variety of them, too, many of which he had imported from distant locales. But of all the beasts in this menagerie, he had invested the most money in gigantic bears. Some of these, he himself had caught; others, he bought (at high prices), or received as gifts from his large coterie of friends. Although he cared for these animals assiduously, they died off one by one, some from excessive heat, others from disease. So the common people, who had hoped to see the animals in action in hunts in the amphitheater, instead took advantage of the situation to eat the bears—a rare treat for them, since they generally did not have meat courses in their meals. Source: Lucius Apuleius, The Golden Ass 4.13–14.

Gladiatorial cups. One of the most interesting sources of information about Roman gladiators comes from decorated and inscribed drinking cups. These cups may contain representations of one or more gladiators, sometimes in fighting mode, along with labels indicating their names.

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Possibly the most famous of these cups was found in southern France. Made of glass, and dated in the first century ce, it depicts four pairs of gladiators, with the name of each man inscribed above his head: Spiculus, Columbus, Calamus, Hermes, Petraites, Prudens, Gamus, and Merops. Spiculus, paired up against Columbus, is apparently victorious in his match. He stands over the prone Columbus, sword drawn and shield held away from his body. Gamus maintains a similar posture over his defeated opponent, Merops. Petraites seems to have gotten the better of his rival, Prudens, who has lost or dropped his shield and is trying to regain control of it. Calamus and Hermes appear in fighting poses. Some of these gladiatorial names also appear in other sources, leading scholars to believe that this cup, and presumably others like it, were made and sold as souvenirs. Spiculus, in particular, is mentioned a couple times by Suetonius, in his biography of the emperor Nero. Spiculus was a first century ce murmillo, and apparently one of Nero’s favorites. Nero was so enamored of Spiculus that he presented him with several residences and other properties equal in value to those that might be given to triumphal military generals. Later, near the end of his reign, when an armed rebellion against him was on the verge of succeeding, Nero called out for Spiculus to appear and apply the fatal blow. However, Spiculus was nowhere to be found. In addition to the Suetonian information, and the cup, the name Spiculus also appears in a Pompeian gladiatorial inscription (CIL 4.1474). It is probable, although not certain, that the same man is meant in all three references. The bombastic fictional character Trimalchio, in Petronius’ satirical Trimalchio’s Dinner, claims to own multiple heavy cups made of pure silver, which depict the legendary fights between Petraites and a certain Hermeros (who may be the same man as the Hermes, mentioned above). The editor Martin S. Smith notes: A number of commemorative cups have been discovered which contain representations of pairs of gladiators. Several of these link a Petraites … with a Prudens. [The historian H. T.] Rowell identifies this pair with a pair of gladiators mentioned in a Pompeian inscription, and he assigns all the cups to the Neronian period [54–68 ce], mainly on the basis of his identification of Spiculus, who is paired with a Columbus on two of the cups.

Sources: Petronius, Trimalchio’s Dinner 53. Smith, Martin S. (ed.). Petronii Arbitri. Cena Trimalchionis. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975. Suetonius, Life of Nero 30, 47. http://www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/245397. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/81.10.245.

Gladiatorial demographics. The types of individuals who fought as Roman gladiators can be conveniently grouped into four general categories: (1) criminals; (2) slaves and prisoners of war; (3) free Roman citizens drafted to be gladiators; (4) volunteers.

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One of the means of execution for criminals sentenced to death was fighting in the amphitheater, either against each other as gladiators, or against wild animals. Occasionally, innocent victims suffered along with the guilty. The early Christian writer Tertullian suggests that unjustly convicted men had sometimes been forced to fight in the arena. He argues that the judicial system was not perfect; undoubtedly, innocent defendants had certainly been convicted from time to time, either because of a biased judge, or an incompetent defense lawyer, or a confession extracted through torture. Convicted criminals were thrown unarmed into the amphitheater, to kill each other, or to be killed by other gladiators who did possess weapons. The practice of pitting unarmed combatants against one another is vividly described by the philosopher Seneca: But nothing is so damaging to good character as the habit of lounging at the games; for then it is that vice steals subtly upon one through the avenue of pleasure. What do you think I mean? I mean that I come home more greedy, more ambitious, more voluptuous, and even more cruel and inhuman—because I have been among human beings. By chance I attended a midday exhibition, expecting some fun, wit, and relaxation— an exhibition at which [the spectators’] eyes have respite from the slaughter of their fellow men. But it was quite the reverse. The previous combats were the essence of compassion; but now all the trifling is put aside and it is pure murder. The men have no defensive armor. They are exposed to blows at all points, and no one ever strikes in vain. Many persons prefer this program to the usual pairs and to the bouts “by request” [apparently some sort of encore presented as a response to popular demand, at the close of the advertised bouts]. Of course they do; there is no shield or helmet to deflect the weapon. What is the need of defensive armor, or of skill? All these mean delaying death. In the morning, they throw men to the lions and the bears; at noon, they throw them to the spectators. The spectators demand that the slayer shall face the man who is to slay him in his turn; and they always reserve the latest conqueror for another butchering. The outcome of every fight is death, and the means are fire and sword. This sort of thing goes on while the arena is empty. But you may retort: “But he was a highway robber; he killed a man!” And what of it? Granted that, as a murderer, he deserved this punishment, what crime have you committed, poor fellow, that you should sit and see this show? In the morning they cried, “Kill him! Lash him! Burn him! Why does he meet the sword in so cowardly a way? Why does he strike so feebly? Why doesn’t he die game? Whip him to meet his wounds! Let them receive blow for blow, with chests bare and exposed to the stroke!” And when the games stop for the intermission, they announce: “A little throatcutting in the meantime, so that there may still be something going on!” (tr. Gummere).

Seneca admonishes the people who attend and enjoy such events to beware, for merely observing such behavior and cruelty in the arena could corrupt the observer. The biographer Suetonius states that, when the price increased for cattle to feed to the wild beasts slated for the arena, the first century ce emperor Caligula selected criminals instead to be the food source. He ordered criminals,

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regardless of the nature of their crimes, to be randomly lined up, and then hauled away to the stables to meet their fates. Sometimes, however, “luckier” criminals were assigned to gladiatorial schools rather than directly to the arena. This offered them some hope of survival, for at least they could then fight as properly armed and trained gladiators. Military campaigns in which the Romans triumphed provided large numbers of prisoners of war who were often condemned to the arena. The Britons captured by the first century ce emperor Claudius and brought to Rome in 44 suffered this fate. The Roman conquest of Jerusalem in 70 ce produced similar results; according to the antiquarian Josephus, the Romans, under the command of Titus, son of the emperor Vespasian, dispersed many multitudes of prisoners (Josephus puts the number at 97,000) to various provinces, to be killed in the amphitheaters either by wild animals, or by the sword. Titus later marched to Caesarea Philippi, where he put on lavish spectacles, where many prisoners perished in a manner similar to that described just above. Sometimes, slaves were sold to gladiatorial schools or otherwise forced to fight in the arena. Suetonius records the story of Asiaticus, a certain favored servant of the youthful future emperor Vitellius, who tired of his master and fled. Vitellius subsequently found the man in Puteoli (a town not far from Rome), where he had become a kind of street vendor. The unpredictable Vitellius shackled him, but then immediately freed him. However, Asiaticus soon fell out of favor yet again, whereupon Vitellius sold him to a traveling gladiatorial impresario. But when the young man was scheduled to fight in one of the last bouts of the day, Vitellius suddenly swooped in and snatched him away, and once more freed him. The third category of gladiators consisted of free Roman citizens who were either drafted or coerced by other circumstances to participate in arena combats. A brutal example of forced gladiatorial service in the provinces is recorded in a letter from the first century bce politician Asinius Pollio to Cicero. In this letter, Pollio details the many excesses of an out-of-control provincial functionary by the name of Balbus. Among other things, this Balbus had forced a soldier by the name of Fadius to join a gladiatorial school. Fadius readily learned the gladiatorial arts, and won his first two matches. But when he was not paid for his efforts, he balked at continuing his stint as a gladiator, and appealed to the spectators for support. Balbus immediately intervened by ordering Fadius to be dragged out of the arena, and back to the school, where he was buried up to his waist in the dirt floor of the practice area. Next, he decreed that Fadius be burned alive; as the flames leapt around him, Fadius cried out that he was born a Roman citizen. (Roman citizens were automatically accorded the right to appeal death sentences.) Balbus callously

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dismissed this objection by telling the dying man to extricate himself from the flames, and find someone who would hear his appeal. Pollio adds that Balbus was responsible in like manner for the deaths of many other Roman citizens. Suetonius tells the story of a man who had vowed to become a gladiator if the emperor Caligula recovered from an illness, and then was forced to fulfill his promise when the latter did indeed regain physical health. Caligula watched as the man entered the arena sword in hand, and fought well. Victory was his, but Caligula would not release him until he had made many heartfelt requests. The emperor ordered another man who had made the same vow, but then tried to renege, to be driven through the city streets and to be castigated for his change of heart; his ultimate fate: to be thrown over a cliff. Sometimes, other considerations compelled free Romans to turn to the sword. The historian Livy defines only two categories of gladiators: slaves, and free citizens willing to sell their blood in the arena. In 206 bce, during the Second Punic War, the Roman general Publius Cornelius Scipio returned to the town of New Carthage in Spain (a Carthaginian stronghold which he had seized in 209), in order to put on a gladiatorial show honoring his deceased father and uncle. Livy asserts that the gladiators recruited for this event were not to be made up of the classes of men usually seen in such venues—slaves and free men willing to risk death for economic gain—but rather, volunteers drawn from the ranks of the locals, men who would fight without payment. Some of these came at the behest of their tribal leaders, to put on a display of their native courage; others volunteered merely to please Scipio; for others, personal jealousies and rivalries were the motivations. In some cases, men who had been involved in unresolved litigation or other legal matters decided to settle their differences not in a court of law, but in the arena. A particularly noteworthy rivalry involved two cousins—Corbis and Orsua—who hailed from a distinguished and noble family. They were both candidates for the top governmental post in their native town, and they announced that they would let Mars (god of war, and apparently by extension, the god most likely worshipped by gladiators) decide the outcome. Corbis was the older of the two, whereas Orsua’s father had most recently held the position. Scipio evidently thought that this was a foolish method of determining which man would be the new office holder, so he tried to defuse their mutual antagonism and help them to negotiate a solution. They both replied that their relatives had already suggested a similar course of action, to no avail. Besides, each of the two thought that he could win a contest of swordsmanship. Corbis, the older man, was as strong as an oak tree; Orsua, the younger one, placed his confidence in his youthful skill and energy. So set in their opinions were they that neither was willing to endure life under the municipal administration of the other. So they came to gladiatorial blows,

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providing for the onlookers (many of whom were Roman soldiers) a memorable show; Livy wrote that their confrontation “demonstrat[ed] how great an evil among mortals is the ambition to rule” (tr. Moore). Even though Orsua had greater physical strength and endurance, the older man excelled in the arts of strategy and deception, and easily prevailed in the match. And although Livy does not say so, apparently Corbis thus became the new chief office-holder of the town. Economic setbacks could also cause young men to turn to the gladiatorial life as a remedy for their financial difficulties. The philosopher Seneca notes that even offspring of the noblest families have been driven to the arena because of their profligacy and extravagant lifestyles. The satirist Juvenal censures the wasteful ways of his fellow citizens who were forced by their exhausted resources to degrade themselves by performing as actors or gladiators. Bona fide volunteers composed the fourth and final class of gladiators. These were the men to whom fighting genuinely appealed. Some of them apparently believed that they had not truly fulfilled their potential unless they had been tested by adversity or hardship. Seneca writes about a certain gladiator named, aptly, Triumphus, a murmillo who lived during the time of the emperor Tiberius (reigned 14–37 ce). This Triumphus lamented the lack of gladiatorial shows, and nostalgically longed for the time when shows were frequent, when he could display his skills. Suetonius remarks that 400 senators and 600 equestrians fought as gladiators during Nero’s rule (54–68 ce), apparently as volunteers. Emperors even got into the act; Caligula and Commodus both dabbled as gladiators, with varying degrees of credibility and success. Sources: Cicero, Letters to His Friends, 10.32. Gummere, Richard M. (tr.). Seneca. Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1917. Josephus, The Wars of the Jews 6.9; 7.1. Juvenal, Satire 8, 11. Livy, History of Rome 28.12. Moore, Frank Gardner (tr.). Livy. Volume VIII. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1949. Seneca the Younger, Moral Epistles, 7; 99. On Providence 4.4.

Gladiatorial(?) tesserae. One of the most interesting and puzzling features of the Roman gladiatorial establishment is to be found in the gladiatorial tesserae, oblong cubes of bone or ivory, with a hole in one end, and inscribed texts on the four long faces. The topics of the inscriptions: (1.) the name of the gladiator; (2.) the name of the owner or trainer; (3.) a date; (4.) the names of the consuls. The tesserae are very formulaic, and all the surviving examples seem to contain the same kinds of data. Adding to the dearth of information is the fact that no ancient author has mentioned them in his writings. Some

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modern scholars doubt that these cubes had anything whatever to do with gladiators. Possibly the chief proponent of the notion that tesserae were somehow connected with gladiators is the 19th century historian Ludwig Friedlaender, who summarizes various views on the matter, thus: These cubes may have served as awards for skill or gallantry and provided proof in claims for gladiatorial pensions. Possibly the most difficult problem in interpretation of the inscriptions that appear on the tesserae is the abbreviation sp., which occurs on many of them. The letters may have stood for the word spectatus (“having been watched,” i.e., in honor of a gladiator who frequently performed in front of big crowds); however, the discovery of additional tesserae bearing the word spectavit (“he watched”) made this interpretation less likely. A second possibility: a gladiator was awarded the term Sp. (and a tessera containing those letters) after several successful matches, and that the tessera entitled its owner to supervise, (as a spectator, “overseer”) the activities of a gladiatorial school. A third possibility: on some of the tesserae, the aforementioned word spectavit appears. It may be that the word, in conjunction with a date, referred to the transfer or promotion of the gladiator from active service to spectator. In that case, an inscribed tessera would be a token or symbol of a gladiator’s retirement from the arena, and it may even have served as a sort of “identification card,” a proof of the holder’s status and identity. The primary counterargument was proposed by the historian M. Cary. He maintained that these tesserae were actually used in the banking businesses, and that they were attached to bags of coinage. The sp. abbreviation referred to the practice of examining and testing the coins, to prove that they were not counterfeit. So a moneybag with the sp. stamp of approval, as displayed on the accompanying tessera, could be assumed to contain genuine coins. Source: Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume IV (translated by A. B. Gough). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1968.

Glaucus (gladiator). Glaucus’ name appears in a funerary inscription. Although the text of the inscription does not specifically state that Glaucus was a retiarius, three artistic representations that appear at the top of the epitaph, a dagger, trident, and helmet, strongly suggest that the monument honors a retiarius. It is unknown when he lived. The translation of the text: To the Underworld Gods, for Glaucus, a novice from Mutina [in Gaul]. Fights: seven, died in the eighth, lived 23 years, five days. Aurelia [his wife made this monument for her] husband, who well deserved it. [His] friends also [contributed to the monument’s expense]. I warn you to look after your own destiny, and not have any faith in Nemesis. This is how I was deceived. Hail. Farewell.

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The text reveals that Glaucus had only eight fights in his brief gladiatorial career, and that he apparently died only five days after his 23rd birthday anniversary. A gladiator’s tombstone was frequently provided by his wife, and such is the case with Glaucus’ monument; his wife Aurelia arranged for its placement. Interestingly, “friends” (amatores) were also involved in commissioning the stone. The Latin word amator, however, carries with it different nuances of meaning; it could be translated “friends” (as here), but it can also mean “lovers,” or “mistresses.” (It is known that gladiators were not above patronizing brothels, or involving themselves with more than one lover.) And there is another possibility: “fans,” or “admirers.” Or, the word might not apply to Glaucus at all, but rather, to his wife: her friends. On the whole, however, it seems most likely that it simply refers to Glaucus’ friends. The trickiest portion of the inscription are the final few lines, including the words planetam suum procurare vos moneo, rendered as “I warn you to look after your own destiny.” The upshot seems to be that gladiators should not place their faith in the gods or fate when they enter the arena to fight, but rather, trust their own skills and instincts. Glaucus was killed because he did not heed this advice: sic sum deceptus, “This is how I was deceived.” The admonition to avoid having faith in Nemesis is also interesting. The goddess Nemesis was apparently viewed by gladiators with a healthy respect as an avenging deity who might cause them either to be spared or to be killed, depending upon her particular whim. J. P. V. D. Balsdon writes: “…[G]ladiators were extremely superstitious … they did all they could to placate the frightening goddess Nemesis, evidence of whose cult has been found in amphitheaters in the western Empire as well as in the east.” Had Glaucus taken control of his own destiny, instead of (apparently) trusting Nemesis, he may have lived to fight another day. Sources: CIL 5.3466. Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969.

Hadrian and Roman sports. The emperor Hadrian (reigned 117–138 ce) was such a skilled and enthusiastic hunter that he reportedly laid low a huge boar with only one shot. But his luck was not as prominent on another occasion, when he fell victim to some sort of accident, resulting in a broken collar bone and a badly injured leg. Nonetheless, his love of the sport was so great that when his favorite horse, Borysthenes—the one which he always rode when hunting—died, he ordered that a tomb be built for him, with an inscribed epitaph. Hadrian had a unique and effective method of crowd control at public spectacles. For example, during a gladiatorial show, when the spectators were growing restless and making (unspecified) demands, Hadrian refused to

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accede to their requests. Furthermore, he quieted the throng not by force, or threats, or a speech; he simply ordered a herald to proclaim “Silence!” But even this command was not verbal, but rather he conveyed it by merely raising his hand. The crowd immediately understood, and obeyed. And then, with the noise under control, the herald remarked: “That’s what he wants.” Each year on his birthday, he treated the populace to free games and shows. For his natal celebration in 119, he exhibited one hundred lions, and one hundred lionesses; hunters dispatched all of them. As an additional gift to the crowd, he distributed small inscribed balls, redeemable for money or food. (Hadrian, and also other emperors, occasionally offered this kind of largesse to spectators at games and shows.) On other occasions, however, he was not so crowd-friendly. For example, upon his return to Rome in 124 after a military expedition, he attended a spectacle of some sort, and some of the spectators petitioned him to grant freedom to an unnamed charioteer (who was apparently a slave at the time). Hadrian declined, however, stating that it was an inappropriate request, and that even an emperor had no right to emancipate someone else’s slave, nor bring pressure to bear on the owner to do so. After he died in 138, a colossal statue of Hadrian was constructed, depicting him driving a four-horse chariot. It was said that even a large, bulky man could easily walk through the eye sockets of one of the horses, and yet the foundation upon which it rested was itself so outlandishly high that to persons standing on the ground, Hadrian and the horses seemed to be very small. Source: Dio Cassius, Roman History 69.

Hermes the gladiator. The Roman poet Martial chose gladiators and charioteers as the subjects of several of his poems. The gladiator Hermes, immortalized in his poetry, was probably a type rather than a specific individual. Martial’s epigram about him raises some interesting and occasionally puzzling points about the career of a Roman gladiator. First, the Latin: Hermes Martia saeculi voluptas, Hermes omnibus eruditus armis, Hermes et gladiator et magister, Hermes turbo sui tremorque ludi, Hermes, quem timet Helius, sed unum, Hermes, cui cadit Advolans, sed uni, Hermes vincere nec ferire doctus, Hermes suppositicius sibi ipse, Hermes divitiae locariorum, Hermes cura laborque ludiarum, Hermes belligera superbus hasta,

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Hermes Hermes aequoreo minax tridente, Hermes casside languida timendus, Hermes Gloria Martis universi, Hermes omnia solus et ter unus. And the translation: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Hermes, hero of the Martian crowd, Hermes, skilled in all the bouts allowed, Hermes, who serves as gladiator and teacher, Hermes, in his own school a fearsome creature, Hermes, the only one Sunny-boy fears to fight, Hermes, the only one that makes Flash white with fright, Hermes, trained to win but not to club, Hermes, the man himself is his own sub, Hermes helps the ticket scalpers pay their debts, Hermes, the care and labor of the gladiatorettes, Hermes, cocky with his warlike spear, Hermes, with fishy trident has no peer, Hermes, respected with drooping crest, Hermes, of men of Mars the best, Hermes, all these, three gladiators in one.

Several useful details about a gladiator’s career emerge from this epigram. In line two, Martial states that Hermes was trained in all kinds of fighting, apparently a reference to his ability to compete in more than one gladiatorial classification. If so, this would be a rare instance of gladiatorial versatility; other evidence overwhelmingly indicates that if a man began his career as (for example) a retiarius, he remained a retiarius until his death or retirement. Was Hermes the ancient equivalent of a player-coach (line three)? That is, did he train other gladiators at the same time that he was still actively competing? The Latin word magister has an abundance of translations, but one of them is “trainer” or “coach,” and the word does occasionally appear in Latin literature with that meaning. Line Five: “Sunny-boy’s” Latin name: Helius, apparently referring to the sun god. Line Six: “Flash’s” Latin name: Advolans, a word meaning “swiftly running,” or “swiftly flying.” In line seven, Martial indicates that Hermes was so proficient that he could force an opponent to yield without seriously injuring him. Line Eight: Another example of Hermes’ prowess appears in this line, where Martial notes that he never required the services of a suppositicius, an

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interesting word which does not appear anywhere else in literary references to gladiators. Hence, it is difficult to translate; “substitute” is probably the best rendering. However, the notion that a wounded or fatigued gladiator could call upon a substitute is highly implausible. A gladiatorial contest was a “one-on-one” affair, continuing until a conclusion was reached. Certainly, a practice as significant to the outcome as a substitution system would have been mentioned elsewhere in the ancient sources. Perhaps a subpositicius was one who replaced a gladiator forced by illness or injury to withdraw prior to the announced day of a match. The indomitable Hermes never found himself incapacitated to the point where he failed to appear for a bout, and thus he never required a substitute. This interpretation would be consistent with the comment appearing in the Oxford Latin Dictionary’s definition of subpositicius: “so invincible he [Hermes] needs no replacement.” Attempts have been made to equate subpositicius with the Greek word ephedros, a technical term from the world of the ancient Olympics and other athletic festivals. The boxing and wrestling events in the Greek games were run like elimination tournaments, with competitors matched using a lottery system. If there were an uneven number of entrants, one of them would receive a bye; lots were drawn after each round to minimize the possibility that the same athlete would continue to receive the bye. Ephedros (literally, “sitting beside”) was the term for bye. However, it is clear that gladiatorial contests were never organized as elimination tournaments, and so there can really be no similarity between the terms subpositicius and ephedros. In line nine, the word locarius (translated as “ticket scalper”) appears. The precise meaning of this word is uncertain; the root of the word (locus, meaning “seat” or “place”) suggests that it referred to a person who was in some way connected with seats or seating arrangements in the amphitheater (and very likely the circus also). The lexicographers Charlton Lewis and Charles Short define it as “one who first took possession of a seat in the theatre and let it out to one who came later”; the Oxford Latin Dictionary states that a locarius was an ancient version of a ticket scalper—that is, a speculator who, weeks or months in advance, acquires prime tickets to athletic events certain to attract large crowds, and then on the day of the event sells the tickets for far more than their face value. A gladiatorial show featuring the famous Hermes would have been expected to fill the amphitheater; for this reason, Martial calls him divitiae locariorum, a source of riches for the ticket scalpers. Line Ten: Here, the reader is informed that Hermes was the object of concern and worry of the ludiae, variously translated as female gladiator, wife of a gladiator, or mistress of a gladiator. In his sixth Satire, the poet Juvenal writes of a certain Eppia, who abandoned hearth and home to run off with the gladiator Sergius and become his ludia.

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In line 12, Martial indicates that Hermes fought as a retiarius. The connection between the retiarius’ equipment and the sea emerges in the phrase aequoreo tridente, “the sea’s trident.” Lines eleven and thirteen contain information about the other two classifications in which Hermes performed as a gladiator, but the overly general nature of the descriptions precludes successful attempts to determine which classifications. The epigram concludes by noting Hermes’ prowess and versatility in the three styles of fighting mentioned in lines eleven through thirteen: ter unus, “three (gladiators in) one.” Sources: Juvenal, Satire 6. Martial, Epigrams 5.24. Translation and commentary adopted from: Matz, David. Greek and Roman Sport. A Dictionary of Athletes and Events from the Eighth Century B.C. to the Third Century A.D. Jefferson, North Carolina, and London: McFarland, 1991.

A hunting accident … or murder? In his short novel The Golden Ass (Being the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius), the second century ce writer Lucius Apuleius describes an incident which could have been a hunting accident … or worse. The back story: two young gentlemen wooed the same lady. The suitors were named Thrasyllus and Tlepolemus; the lady, Charite. Although Thrasyllus was rich and handsome, he also had a somewhat nasty disposition, and that was reason enough for Charite to reject his advances, and marry Tlepolemus. Thrasyllus did not handle his defeat very well, although he outwardly pretended to be delighted with the match, so much so that the newlyweds frequently invited him to their house, and entertained him as if he were one of their closest friends. As time went on, the couple began to trust him completely; as for his part, the more time that he spent with them, the more ardently did he burn with love for the lady who spurned him. Thrasyllus pondered long and hard about whether he should disclose his feelings to Charite, but he ultimately decided against so doing, partially because she was always surrounded by guards and servants, partially because the bond of love between her and Tlepolemus seemed unbreakable. He also considered the possibility of proposing an extramarital affair, but he knew that she would refuse; but even if she acquiesced, he felt certain that Tlepolemus would find out. But Thrasyllus simply could not overcome his passionate feelings for Charite, so he began to formulate a new plan whereby he might win her after all. The hunting incident: One day, Tlepolemus and Thrasyllus went out hunting together, but only for goats; goats were chosen as the quarry because Charite did not want her husband to tangle with more menacing beasts, ones which were equipped with sharp teeth, or tusks, or antlers. In their pursuit, the two hunters trapped a herd of goats in a thicket hedged all around by

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prickly, thorny vegetation. At the propitious moment, a command was made to the well-trained hunting hounds to move toward the thicket, and surround the goats in their protective cover. This maneuver the dogs executed to perfection; their training and breeding served them well. Their approach was silent: no barking, no whining, no sound of any kind, until the signal to advance was given. Hearing the signal, the dogs attacked with such force and vigor that the noise resounded through the entire forest. But much to everyone’s shocked surprise, no goats emerged from the thicket, nor any other kind of mild-mannered animal (like a deer) of which Charite might have approved. Instead, a fierce wild boar sprang out of the greenery, a beast “thick with muscles and brawn, with a filthy and hairy hide, his bristles rising along his pelt, foaming at the mouth, grinding his teeth, looking direfully with fiery eyes, and rushing like lightning as he charged with his furious jaws” (tr. Adlington). The dogs that rushed at the boar fared poorly; he tore them to shreds with his powerful tusks, and then impaled them and tossed them every which way through the air. He made his escape by easily tearing through the nets and snares that had been set up to entrap him. Tlepolemus, Thrasyllus, and the other hunters who were accompanying them were terrified when they observed the animal’s behavior, partly because they had no experience in hunting such a powerful creature, and partly because the hunting spears which they had brought were not readily accessible. So they tried to hide in the bushes, hoping, apparently, to remain unnoticed. Then Thrasyllus—hoping to take unscrupulous advantage of the situation—spoke to Tlepolemus. He said that the two of them should not cower under the bushes, like common slaves, nor should they allow such a fine prize (the boar) to escape. He recommended that they immediately mount their horses and relentlessly chase after the boar, but not before retrieving their weapons. Tlepolemus agreed; grabbing their spears, they jumped into the saddles, and began to track the boar. But the boar would not be easily intimidated; “forgetting not his natural strength, [he] returned against them, burning with the fire of his wild nature, and gnashing his teeth, [he fixed] his eyes on whom he might assail first with his tusks” (tr. Adlington). Tlepolemus happened to be closer to the animal than Thrasyllus, and so it was he who struck the first blow, hitting him on the back with his spear. But the untrustworthy Thrasyllus did not join his hunting companion in the attack. Instead, he hung back, and stealthily slit the hind leg tendons of Tlepolemus’ horse, so that the animal, bleeding profusely from the wound, fell to the ground, dislodging his rider from the saddle in the process. Tlepolemus, now bereft of his spear and totally defenseless, suffered the full force of the enraged boar’s savage assault; the animal tore through his clothing, and then his flesh.

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And what was Thrasyllus doing during this terrifying attack? Nothing except watching. When Tlepolemus attempted to protect himself from further rending of his flesh, and cried out to his friend for assistance, Thrasyllus did the opposite: he thrust the point of his hunting spear through Tlepolemus’ right thigh, confident that the wound would mistakenly be identified as having been inflicted by the boar. Then he killed the animal, not a difficult task, considering its exertions, and the injuries which it had already sustained. After the carnage was over, Lucius and the others who had accompanied Tlepolemus on the hunt emerged from their hiding places, and approached his lifeless body. Although Thrasyllus was inwardly rejoicing at the outcome, he masked his glee very cleverly; he wore a grieving expression on his face, embraced Tlepolemus’ body (which he himself had played a role in fatally wounding), and generally displayed all the behaviors of a person in deep mourning, all the while cursing the boar and blaming it for Tlepolemus’ death. The aftermath: When the news of her husband’s death reached Charite, she groaned and cried, running through the streets and loudly lamenting her loss. She and all the townspeople ventured out into the woods, where the tragic events had unfolded. When she saw the body of Tlepolemus, her grief multiplied. She fell upon him, and would have committed suicide on the spot, had not her parents and friends pulled her away from the scene, and tried to comfort her. Attendants lifted up the body and transported it to town, where funeral rites were held. Sources: Adlington, William (tr.), with revisions by S. Gaselee. Apuleius. The Golden Ass. Being the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed, 1915. Lucius Apuleius, The Golden Ass. Being the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius, 8.1–6.

(A) hypothetical gladiator joins the ranks. Ascribed to the first century ce educator and orator Quintilian are some 388 hypothetical legal cases or situations (of which 145 survive), called collectively the “Lesser Declamations.” According to the Classical scholar and translator D. R. Shackleton Bailey, “[h]igher education in Rome was an education in rhetoric, the art and practice of verbal persuasion, and the prime didactic tool was the academic declamation.” The teacher would pose the hypothetical situation, and the student would then have to make a speech—the declamation—in which he responded in some way to the situation. He might interpret the legal issues, or take the part of a prosecutor or defense lawyer. The hypothetical case in Declamation 302 revolved around a man who had volunteered to become a gladiator in order to earn money to fund his father’s funeral. In due course, he appeared in the arena, along with a placard explaining his presence there. The spectators were apparently so moved by

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this action that they demanded the would-be gladiator be given an immediate discharge. This was done, and done before he had fought his first match. At some later time, his socioeconomic status had improved to the point where he qualified to sit in the first 14 rows of the theater or amphitheater (usually reserved for upper-class equestrians and other notables). So the question became: would it ever be appropriate for an ex-gladiator (whose inferior social status was assumed) to occupy a seat there, even if his financial circumstances warranted it? The student’s hypothetical declamation unfolded thus: The case seems to turn on whether the man was actually a gladiator or not. It is true that he received formal training in a ludus (gladiatorial school), and it is also true that he appeared in the arena dressed and equipped as a gladiator. But he never fought a match, since he was granted his discharge before wielding his sword. A gladiator is defined as someone who has engaged in single combat in an amphitheater, with plenty of witnesses in attendance. Would we call someone a lawyer who has never argued a case in court? Or refer to someone as a prosecutor who has never brought charges against a defendant? Let me put it this way: If the owner of the ludus had paid him while he was in training, but had never requested him to fight, would he still be classified as a gladiator? The counterargument—that he was enrolled in the school, and by that fact alone he would legitimately be called a gladiator— does not hold up. There are many employees in a typical gladiatorial school: trainers, physicians, support staff. But no sensible person would refer to any of these as gladiators. Do you claim that his act of merely entering the arena automatically made him a gladiator? But many others do the same; actors and acrobats, for example, to entertain the crowd. Are they gladiators? Do you claim that his presence in the arena while others fought conferred upon him gladiatorial status? But he himself never actually fought, and if we accept the definition of the word “gladiator” as presented at the outset, then he cannot be considered a gladiator. Why did this young man risk life and limb to (possibly) become a gladiator? He had borrowed money to pay for his father’s funeral expenses. He knew the cruel fate that might await him by hiring himself out as a gladiator, but he deemed it crueler still to neglect the proper obsequies for his father. These prosecutors are so cynical that they would have gone after Cimon for offering his own body for his father’s (a reference to the fifth century bce Athenian general Cimon, whose father died in prison; Cimon took his father’s place in prison so that the body could receive a proper burial). The young gladiator in question had made it clear to the crowd in the amphitheater that his sole purpose in being there was to earn money for his father’s burial, and they (as already noted) demanded his immediate discharge.

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Do you think that they now wish that they could retract their decision? And what of the young man’s life after this incident? I can tell you: he lived frugally; he worked hard; he saved his money. I would suggest that no one, in any social class or financial circumstance, has done likewise. Let him sit in one of the fourteen rows! Sources: Bailey, D. R. Shackleton (tr./ed.). [Quintilian]. The Lesser Declamations. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2006. [Quintilian], The Lesser Declamations 302.

Incitatus (charioteer … and a race horse). Incitatus was a Roman charioteer who lived in the first century ce; his birthplace is unknown. He is mentioned by the poet Martial in a couple epigrams. In one of these, Martial bewails the fickleness of fortune. He describes the poet Mevius, a homegrown wordsmith, not an immigrant from Syria or Parthia (i.e., the farthest reaches of the Roman Empire), and a man of the people; he is a pleasant, upright friend who would never hurt anyone, a cultured man who can speak both Greek and Latin. His only shortcoming (but a great one at that)? He is a poet! And as such, he is chilly in the cooler months, with only a drab, dark hood to wear, a sign of his poverty. On the other hand, the charioteer Incitatus sports flashy, bright red headwear, an indication of wealth and a luxuriant lifestyle. Such is the economic divide between the poet and the athlete. In the second of the two epigrams, Martial addresses his own book of poetry, and speculates where, and by whom, it might be read. He seems to be suggesting that the priorities of most people tend toward interest in the races first, and only then to literature. He indicates that two famous charioteers, Incitatus and Scorpus, inspire among the racing fans two activities above all else: sponsio (betting), and fabulae (talking). There was also a famous race horse named Incitatus, a favorite of the emperor Caligula (reigned 37–41 ce). Caligula treated this animal like royalty. On the night before a big race, for example, he sent soldiers to patrol the neighborhood surrounding the stables, to enforce his order of silence, so that Incitatus could sleep well. The horse enjoyed life in a marble stall, comforted by purple blankets, and a collar made of gemstones; he had his own house, replete with slaves and sumptuous furniture. Sometimes, Caligula “invited” Incitatus to dine with him at the imperial palace, where the animal feasted on golden barley. There was even a rumor circulating that Caligula was intending to confer a consulship on the animal. (This planned promotion to political prominence never happened, although the historian Dio Cassius writes that it would have occurred had Caligula lived longer.) Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 59. Martial, Epigrams, 10.76; 11.1. Matz, David. Greek and Roman Sport. A Dictionary of Athletes and Events from the Eighth Century

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B.C. to the Third Century A.D. Jefferson, North Carolina, and London: McFarland, 1991. Suetonius, Life of Caligula 55.

Julius Caesar and Roman sports. The famous statesman and general Gaius Julius Caesar (100–44 bce) was better known for conquering all of Gaul (and writing a book about it) than for any association with dangerous sports, but, like most politicians of his time, he knew the importance of sponsoring shows and games for potential voters and adherents. For example, when he held the office of aedile in 65, he sponsored a gladiatorial show featuring 320 combatants. After he consolidated his power in the decade of the 40s, he gave all kinds of public entertainments: gladiatorial shows in several locations, theatrical productions, chariot races, various kinds of athletic contests (probably boxing, wrestling and racing), and a mock naval battle. In a gladiatorial combat held in the Roman Forum, two men of distinguished lineage—Furius Leptinus and Quintus Calpenus—fought it out. (The biographer Suetonius reports that those two high-ranking men competed; the historian Dio Cassius states that upper middle class men, and even the son of a praetor, engaged in the combats, but that a senator named Fulvius Sepinus was forbidden to do so.) A wooden amphitheater was constructed for the gladiatorial combats. For the chariot races, the Circus Maximus was enlarged, and then highranking young men raced two-horse and four-horse chariots, while other events featured men riding horses two abreast, and jumping from one horse to the other. Contests involving wild animals occurred on five days in a row. Finally, a mock battle was staged, pitting two armies against each other; 500 soldiers participated on each side, as well as 20 elephants, and 30 cavalrymen. The athletic contests took place over the span of three days, in a temporary facility in the Campus Martius. The venue for the mock naval battle was an artificial lake excavated in the Codeta (also in the area of the Campus Martius); in the battle, sailors manned ships of two, three, and even four banks of oars. The Troy Game, featuring young men of patrician rank, was exhibited, while others of the same age and social status competed in chariot racing. The shows drew huge crowds. Housing was insufficient to accommodate the numbers of spectators, many of whom had to spend their nights in tents set up near streets and roads. Some people even perished, crushed and trampled by the press of the throng. Upon Caesar’s triumphal return to Rome in 45, as the civil war was winding down, he decreed lavish banquets and games, including a feast on such a large scale that 20,000 dining couches were needed, as well as gladiatorial shows and mock naval combats in honor of his long-deceased daughter. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 43. Suetonius, Life of Julius Caesar 39.

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Juvenal and Roman sports. The satirical poet Juvenal wrote 16 satires on what he viewed as the inequities, double standards, and loose morals of first century ce Roman society. Not surprisingly, gladiators, charioteers, and other practitioners of dangerous sports appear quite often in his work, as the following survey indicates: Satire 2, lines 143–148: Juvenal refers acerbically to a noblemanturned-gladiator named Gracchus, a man of more distinguished lineage than even some of the finest Roman families, such as the Marcelli or the Fabii. He was of a higher social status than anyone who sat in the amphitheater’s podium, a VIP seating area reserved for elite spectators. Even worse, Gracchus fought as a retiarius, a kind of unhelmeted gladiator, making his disgraceful behavior obvious because the spectators could easily identify him. Satire 3, lines 34–37: The author singles out cornicines, trumpeters, who traveled with gladiators from one town to the next, to provide a musical backdrop for the bouts. Juvenal notes (perhaps with a touch of envy?) that some of these trumpeters have become wealthy enough to produce their own gladiatorial shows, and gain the approval of the crowds by killing or sparing defeated gladiators, according to the popular verdict. Satire 3, lines 153–158: Here, Juvenal complains that prime seating areas in the amphitheater, supposedly reserved for people of wealth and status, have been taken over by riffraff, including the sons of gladiators and gladiatorial trainers. Satire 3, lines 223–224: One of Juvenal’s recurring themes is what he regards as the substandard quality of life for many in Rome, and the high prices. And yet in these two lines, he implies that even people who could afford a pleasant house in the country would rather live in a dump in Rome, because of its closer proximity to the Circus. Satire 6, lines 82–114: In these lines, Juvenal excoriates a senator’s wife by the name of Eppia, for running off with the gladiator Sergius. For the full story, see the entry titled “Sergius the gladiator, and the senator’s wife.” Satire 6, lines 246–267: The poet makes many sarcastic comments about female gladiators in these lines. They could often be seen practicing their moves in the gladiatorial schools, possibly in preparation for the real thing in the amphitheaters. How embarrassing for her husband, if at some point she sells her weaponry and other equipment at a public auction. And how inappropriate for a woman to wear the heavy gladiatorial armor, and be swathed in the gladiatorial wraps and leggings. Satire 6, lines 352–356: Here, Juvenal writes disparagingly about the profligate behavior of a fictional lady named Ogulnia, who would rent expensive clothing to wear when she attends gladiatorial shows or chariot races. And she is so enamored of youthful athletes (probably boxers or wrestlers)

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that she would shower pricey gifts on them, even if doing so broke the family budget. Satire 6, lines 7–11*: Rare praise for a lanista, a trainer/overseer of gladiators, often shunned by polite society, as well as literati like Juvenal. Juvenal claims that even a lanista can maintain a well-organized stable of gladiators, one more orderly than a household gone awry by the wasteful habits of the wife. Satire 6, lines 522–526: In his continuing tirade against women in this satire, the poet notes that some of them even go in for dangerous swimming in the Tiber River. The Romans occasionally went for recreational swims in the Tiber, although its strong currents and sometimes debris-clogged waters could make even non-competitive swimming a fairly risky proposition. But some women, says Juvenal, try to make the swim in the winter, when chilly temperatures can freeze the river in places. But even under those conditions, the shivering swimmer will take several dives into the icy water, and then crawl across the Campus Martius (the large field located adjacent to the river), possibly to a shrine of the goddess Isis, where she presumably had stashed dry clothing. Satire 6, lines 582–584, and 588: Juvenal writes that middle and lower class women sometimes go to the Circus Maximus to have their fortunes told. Fortunetellers and astrologers reportedly did a brisk business in the environs of the Circus. Satire 7, lines 112–114: In these lines, the poet decries the riches that a charioteer can amass, by comparing him to (often wealthy) lawyers. He claims that a certain Red faction charioteer by the name of Lacerta can make as much money as 100 lawyers. Satire 7, lines 228–243: Educators everywhere would certainly appreciate Juvenal’s sympathetic portrayal of the travails endured by even the most skilled teacher: Parents demand impossible standards of any teacher. His grammar and diction must be perfect at all times. He must know everything about history, and be able to communicate all the details whenever asked. If the teacher happened to be on his way to the public baths, to relax after a long day in the classroom, he might be waylaid by a parent, and be expected to answer extemporaneously any question about even the most minute detail of literature or mythology. Questions like: Who was Anchises’ nurse? What was the name of Anchemolus’ stepmother? Where did she come from? How old was Acestes when he died? How many jars of Sicilian wine did the Trojans get from him as a present? Relentless parents. They demand and expect the teacher to mold

(*Although the text for Satire 6 had been known for many centuries, in 1899 a classical scholar by the name of E. O. Winstedt discovered an additional 34 lines, in a previously unknown manuscript. Most scholars today accept these 34 lines as legitimately belonging to Satire 6. They are designated with the letter “O,” followed by the line number.)

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these tender young minds like an artist who shapes a face out of wax. They insist that he must be a parent to all of his students, as well as a disciplinarian, to ensure that they play no games, nor pull any tricks, during class. And it’s no easy thing to watch so many hands and eyes of so many students, all the time (tr. Green, with some paraphrasing from the author).

And yet what kind of monetary reward can a teacher hope to reap for his troubles? He will receive about the same amount of money in one year that a gladiator gets for a single victory in the arena. (Juvenal uses only the word victor, “winner,” to refer to the triumphant competitor; some editors take this to refer to a gladiator’s sole victory, while others think it refers to the amount that a charioteer receives for winning a single race. But either way, Juvenal’s point is clear: gladiators and charioteers are far more highly compensated than teachers.) Satire 8, lines 56–67: The theme of the eighth satire focuses on noble ancestry; simply because one can claim an impressive family tree does not necessarily ensure success in life. Nor do humble origins guarantee an unfulfilling life. These principles apply not only to humans, but also to race horses. Juvenal notes that the crowds at the Circus loudly cheer for a horse that can lead his team to victory; that horse’s bloodlines are irrelevant, as long as he is a winner. The poet mentions by name two famous and successful horses, Coryphaeus and Hirpinus (the latter also referenced in a poem by Martial); but if their offspring do not win very often, their lineage would not matter at all. Underperforming horses do not last very long in charioteering stables; they wind up in shops or fields, collars around their necks, passing from one owner to the next, their lives lived out in anonymity. Satire 8, line 118: Juvenal returns to a theme stated elsewhere, that the Romans of his time care most of all for food to eat, and circus races to watch. See the entry titled “Bread and Circuses.” Satire 8, lines 199–210: In these lines, Juvenal again references the story of a certain Gracchus, a nobleman who disgraced himself by donning the regalia of a retiarius, and fighting in the arena. See the entry titled “Retiarii” for more information. Satire 8, line 265: Juvenal briefly mentions an early Roman matron (whom he does not identify by name, but rather by the word virgo, “maiden”), universally identified by modern historians as Cloelia. Her story is told more fully by the historian Livy (History of Rome 2.13). This Cloelia, along with an unspecified number of other Roman women, was being held hostage by the Etruscans, during their siege of Rome in 508 bce. The Etruscan encampment was located not far from the Tiber River. At an opportune moment, Cloelia orchestrated an escape from captivity by leading the hostages down to the river, and plunging in for a dangerous swim to the other side (the Roman side), and safety. Once the women had entered the water and started swimming,

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the Etruscans saw them, and began to shoot arrows and throw spears at them. But they eluded all of the projectiles, and made it safely to the other shore. Once the siege ended, and peace restored, the Romans gave Cloelia a signal honor to commemorate her bravery: an equestrian statue, set up on one of the city’s main thoroughfares. Satire 10, lines 72–80: In these lines, Juvenal makes one of his strongest statements about what he saw as the laziness and irresponsibility of Rome’s common people, the turba Remi, “the crowd of Remus.” These people once were the masters of the world, able to confer authority on consuls and mobilize legions, but now they care only for two things: bread and circuses. Writing during roughly the same time period as Juvenal, the historian Tacitus (Histories 4.38) reports that in 70 ce, the ships bearing grain from Africa were unable to set sail due to the wintry weather. This delay, says Tacitus, caused great consternation among the commoners, whose only public interest was a sufficient grain supply. Satire 11, line 8: In this satire, Juvenal traces the evils of extravagant living, and praises the virtues of a simple lifestyle. An example of a profligate lifestyle might be the fictitious Rutilius, who, having wasted his resources, finds himself reduced to hiring on as a gladiator, one of the few professions left to him. To do so, he would be compelled to agree to the auctoramentum, a contract which strips the recruit of his legal rights; he becomes virtually the slave of the lanista with whom he had signed on. And Rutilius is hardly a rare example; there are many more young men like him. A few lines later, Juvenal refers to the miscellanea ludi, the “coarse fare of the gladiatorial school” (tr. Wright), a comment about the common food a gladiatorial recruit eats, far less tempting than the exquisite cuisine which he enjoyed when he still had wealth. The use of the word miscellanea, which literally means “mixture,” might also be a veiled comment about the demographics of a gladiatorial school: recruits are drawn from all levels of society, from the very wealthy, all the way down to slaves, criminals, and prisoners of war. Satire 11, lines 46–55: What about people who borrow large sums of money, waste it, and then flee from Rome with what little of it is left, apparently hoping to avoid repayment? Juvenal remarks that these deadbeats have one regret and only one regret as they scurry out of the city: they will have to miss at least one season’s worth of races in the Circus Maximus. Satire 11, lines 193–202: Here, Juvenal makes his famous statement about partisanship among chariot racing fans: it would not be necessary to attend the races in person in order to find out which faction has won. If a passerby heard a roar from the crowd, it would almost certainly indicate that a Green faction driver has triumphed; had it been otherwise, the fans would respond as if it were a second Battle of Cannae, a disastrous defeat for the Romans in the Second Punic War.

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Satire 12, lines 101–107: Juvenal refers to the herds of elephants bred and kept in the Rutulian woodlands, not far from Rome. These elephants were the property of the emperors; they alone had the right to own elephants. The animals were stabled and boarded in these woods, until they were put on display at the mock beast hunts, processions, or exhibitions. Sources: Courtney, Edward (ed.). A Commentary on the Satires of Juvenal. London: Athlone Press, 1980. Green, Peter (tr.). Juvenal. The Sixteen Satires. Baltimore: Penguin Books Inc., first published 1967. Ramsay, G. G. (tr.). Juvenal and Persius. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first published 1918. Wright, H. P. (ed.). Juvenal. New York: Ginn and Company, 1901. Tacitus, Histories 4.38.

Juvenal on prospective female gladiators. The cynical Roman satirist Juvenal found many aspects of Roman society to be worthy of complaint, but perhaps none more so than women imitating gladiators. A few lines from his sixth satire demonstrate the point. He begins by expressing his scorn for a woman who dresses up in a purple cloak, the endromis, a kind of Roman warm-up jacket worn by athletes, especially after working out, and one who covers herself with ceroma, a sticky mud-like substance which wrestlers applied to their bodies, and which was also used to coat the floor of the wrestling ring. This is the kind of woman who would pick up a wooden sword (the rudis, used by gladiators for practice), and rip apart a wooden stump with it, or lunge with a shield, imitating all the moves of a gladiator. Could such a woman be practicing for the day when she could actually display her gladiatorial skills in the arena? The poet questions whether a helmeted woman who takes such pleasure in physical feats better suited to a man could retain even a trace of feminine dignity. But she would never choose to switch genders, knowing, as she does, “the superior joys of womanhood.” And how would her husband feel, if her gladiatorial equipment were ever sold at a public auction, for all to see? Yet, Juvenal notes sarcastically, these are the same kinds of women who complain about their thin, lightweight, summer robes—too hot—and their silk blouses—too chafing. He invites the reader to watch one of these women warriors work out. She can barely make it through her training routine. The helmet is too heavy; it causes her knees to buckle. The leather wraps which cover her arms and legs are too big; they stifle her movements. Not even the wife of a gladiator could ever successfully take up her husband’s career. So how could a more respectable lady ever hope to do so? Elsewhere (Satire 1) he denounces the bestiaria Mevia, who prances about the arena floor dressed like an Amazon warrior, and chases down a wild Etrurian boar.

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Sources: Juvenal, Satire 1, 6. Ramsay, G. G. (tr.). Juvenal and Persius. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1918.

Ludus. The Latin word ludus has a multiplicity of meanings applicable to games and sports. Its basic meaning is “sport” or “play,” but it can also refer to theatrical performances, as well as games, contests and fights in the amphitheaters, the racetracks, and the stadiums. Additionally, when modified by the adjective gladiatorius, the resulting phrase, ludus gladiatorius, means “gladiatorial school,” a place where gladiators were trained. The Roman calendar was liberally dotted with formal and recurring games and shows, each originally lasting for one day only. However, the timeframe for some of them expanded to several days, or even weeks; for example, the Ludi Romani (Roman Games) lasted for 16 days, the Ludi Plebeii (Plebeian Games) for 14 days, and the Ludi Cereales (Games in honor of the goddess Ceres) for eight days. Following are brief descriptions of the principal ludi which featured sports and games, in alphabetical order (adapted from Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities): Ludi Actiaci (The Actium Games). These quadrennial games were first celebrated in 31 bce, to commemorate Augustus’ victory over Antony and Cleopatra at the Battle of Actium. Horse racing and gladiatorial matches were featured at these games, as well as other athletic events. Ludi Apollinares (Games in honor of the god Apollo). These games were first produced in 212 bce. The games were originally a one-day, annual festival, held on July 13, but eventually, the time span was expanded to eight days. Although theatrical productions headlined the Apollonian Games, there were also mock beast hunts, horse races, and occasionally an exhibition of the Troy Game. Ludi Augustales (Games in honor of the emperor Augustus). Two separate annual festivals were held under the name Augustan Games. The first was a one-day event, each September 23, the birthday of the emperor. The other was held for ten days, from October 3 through 12. Each featured circus races and beast hunts. Ludi Capitolini (The Capitoline Games). The venerable Capitoline Games were founded in the early fourth century bce to celebrate the retreat of the Gauls, who had been in a position to conquer the Romans and occupy Rome. Over time, these Games were discontinued, but they were revived by the emperor Domitian in the first century ce, and featured competitions in music and oratory, as well as equestrian events, and even a foot race for women. Ludi Juvenalia (The Juvenalian Games). These games were founded

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by the emperor Nero in 59 ce, in honor of his coming of age. The celebration of these games in 95 featured the unfortunate demise of a former consul, Manlius Acilius Glabrio. Glabrio had incurred the wrath and jealousy of the emperor Domitian by fighting successfully as a gladiator. Domitian ordered him to attend the Juvenalian Games and to kill a particularly ferocious, large lion. When Glabrio accomplished that task adroitly, with no injury to himself, Domitian could no longer bear his presence, and ordered him to be executed. Ludi Martiales (The Games in honor of the god Mars). The annual Mars Games were founded in 2 bce, in conjunction with Augustus’ dedication in Rome of the Temple of Mars Ultor (Mars the Avenger). Augustus’ grandsons Gaius and Lucius were in charge of the first exhibition of these games, which included chariot races, animal hunts, a mock sea battle, and the Troy Game. Ludi Plebeii (The Plebeian Games). The Plebeian Games began sometime in the late third century bce, probably in 220, since they were held in the Circus Flaminius, built in that year. Originally a one-day festival (on November 15), they gradually expanded, eventually spanning a period of 14 days, from November 4 to November 17. Ludi Romani (The Roman Games). One of the oldest of the annual celebrations on the calendar, the Roman Games may have been established as early as the reign of the Rome’s fifth king, Tarquinius Priscus (ruled 617– 579 bce). At first, they lasted for one day only, but eventually they became one of the longest-running festivals, 16 days, from September 4 to September 19. A chariot race, in which only two chariots competed, was exhibited, in which two men—a driver and a soldier—rode together in each chariot; the soldiers jumped from the chariots near the finish line, and completed the race on foot. A horse-riding exhibition followed, with two competitors; each man rode one horse, and led a second one by the reins. The subsequent contest apparently consisted of the two riders leaping from one horse to the other. Boxers and other athletes displayed their wares, and the celebration also included a running of the Troy Game. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 51. Peck, Harry Thurston (ed.). Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities. New York: Cooper Square, reissued 1965.

Ludus Gladiatorius (Gladiatorial School). Gladiatorial schools were scattered throughout Italy. In the time of the Roman Republic (ca. fifth through first century bce), they were generally owned by private citizens, when largescale shows in public arenas were as yet rarely seen. The schools were especially numerous in Campania (south central Italy), and it was from a ludus in the Campanian town of Capua that the famous Spartacus made his escape. Julius Caesar also owned a school in Capua. Capua, in fact, was the site of the

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first known gladiatorial school, and by the end of the Roman Republic, the town was renowned as the premier gladiatorial location in all of Italy. The owner of a ludus expected to derive a profit from his investment by hiring out his gladiators to perform at shows, “charging a certain sum for the service of those who survived and a capital payment for all those who were killed,” according to the social historian J. P. V. D. Balsdon. The orator Cicero’s close friend Atticus, a conservative and astute banker, apparently felt that gladiatorial schools represented a sound investment; Cicero wrote a letter to him to compliment him on the fighting spirit of the fine band of gladiators that he had purchased; and if he had wanted to hire them out (which Atticus apparently did not), he would have made a profit in only two shows. Under the Empire, however, privately owned gladiatorial schools became obsolescent. Large bands of armed and trained fighting men in the employ of a private individual could have represented a threat to the established order. And so the gladiatorial schools gradually fell under the control of the emperors. It appears that no privately owned schools survived beyond the time of the emperor Domitian (reigned 81–96 ce). The Ludus Magnus. The largest and most prominent gladiatorial school in Italy was Rome’s Ludus Magnus (the Great School), built probably in the first century ce, and not far from the site of the Coliseum, although its exact location is something of a mystery. Some idea of the architectural plans and features of this structure can be found on a surviving fragment of the Severan marble plan of Rome, kind of a third century ce blueprint in stone of the floor plans of some of Rome’s major buildings; one of the structures depicted in this marble plan was the Ludus Magnus. Enough of the relevant portion of the Severan marble plan survives to reveal the outline of an ellipse in which the words Ludus Magnus were engraved. Surrounding this central area appears to have been a series of small rooms, possibly serving as barracks or training rooms for the gladiators. The current remains of the building were discovered in the same way that many archaeological finds come to light: through a healthy dose of serendipity. The municipal government of modern Rome had intended (in 1937) to construct some office buildings in the area. The digging for the foundations, however, unearthed the curved wall of a cavea (seating area), which resulted in the discovery of the Ludus Magnus. Definitive systematic excavations were carried out from 1959 to 1961. These excavations revealed three components of the building: the cavea, which enclosed the arena; the courtyard around the cavea; and the barrackslike structures next to the courtyard. As previously mentioned, the Ludus Magnus was located quite close to the Coliseum, indicating that the school was closely connected with preparations of gladiators for the spectacles. There may even have been a subterranean passage connecting the two buildings.

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The Ludus Magnus was staffed by a large number of officials and assistants of all kinds. The inscriptions (many of them funerary) pertaining to these functionaries appear in abundance. For example, CIL 6.10165 commemorates a “cursor of the Ludus Magnus” by the name of Tigris; his funerary monument was dedicated to him by his brother, Theonas. The duties of a cursor in the Ludus Magnus are uncertain. The Oxford Latin Dictionary offers “runner, messenger, or courier” as possible definitions, although none of these applies specifically to a gladiatorial context. Apparently, Tigris was some sort of attendant whose responsibility was to run errands for other members of the staff, and perhaps also for the gladiators themselves. Another one of the minor functionaries associated with the Ludus Magnus was the dispensator. There is a funerary inscription memorializing a certain Nymphodotus (CIL 6.10166), who is identified as a “dispensator of the Ludus Magnus.” Also appearing with his name is the cryptic, one-letter abbreviation “N.,” which likely stands for novicius, a new employee. Death evidently took him at a young age, since both his wife and his mother survived him. The problem here (as with cursor) is to determine the role played by the dispensator in the Ludus Magnus. Possibilities from the Lewis and Short A Latin Dictionary include: “a cashier, treasurer … usually the most trustworthy [of] slaves.” The dispensator in Petronius’ satirical Trimalchio’s Dinner had the financial responsibilities of a treasurer or bursar, but he was also a slave. Classifying these financial officials as slaves would conform to the information about Nymphodotus in the inscription, where he is identified as ser[vus], a “slave.” If this general system also applied to the Ludus Magnus, we might conclude that the dispensator was a highly regarded slave (probably several notches above a cursor), to whom many, if not all, of the financial matters were entrusted. Another post in the management team that administered the Ludus Magnus was that of procurator, and several inscriptions specifically refer to procuratores of the Ludus Magnus. The duties of the procurator were apparently similar to those of the dispensator, although the inscriptions indicate that the former office was one of greater importance and responsibility. The job description of a procurator may also have contained some involvement in the recruitment of gladiators; Balsdon notes that “the enlistment of gladiators called for the creation of a special department of civil servants, the procuratores familiae gladiatoriae [“overseers of the gladiatorial familiae”]”. Still another official of the Ludus Magnus is referenced in CIL 6.10164, a funerary inscription memorializing the daughter of an ex-slave named Marcus Ulpius Callistus. The first three lines of the inscription are devoted to the daughter, Cornelia Frontina, but nearly all of the remaining (six more lines) describe her father, who is identified as praepositus armamentario Ludi Magni. The first two words most likely refer to the man’s responsibility as an

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employee of the Ludus Magnus: to oversee an arsenal in which the weapons and other gladiatorial paraphernalia were stored. Although the inscription cannot be dated, it seems possible that his family name, Ulpius, might be a reference to the emperor Trajan, whose family name was also Ulpius, and further, that Trajan manumitted him. In that case, his career in the Ludus Magnus might have coincided with the reign of Trajan, 98–117 ce. There were other people in the employ of this complex bureaucracy of the Roman gladiatorial establishment. For example, each gladiatorial school (not only the Ludus Magnus) was probably furnished with its own staff of house physicians. There are surviving inscriptions which reference these practitioners. In Roman society, the medical profession was not held in the same high esteem which it generally enjoys in contemporary times. Rather, it was viewed as a line of work appropriate more for slaves and freedmen than for respectable members of society. To the Roman mind, it would be perfectly logical for physicians to find employment as staffers in a gladiatorial school; gladiators and doctors occupied roughly the same level on the social scale. Young doctors occasionally attempted to join a ludus as staff physicians in order to gain practical experience, perhaps approximating a sort of medical residency. It is known that the emperor Marcus Aurelius’ famous doctor, Galen, received his first practical training in medicine by treating injured gladiators in his home town, Pergamum. According to the historian John Scarborough, “Galen probably took this position to improve his knowledge of anatomy. He remarks on various matters he learned about musculature in this period of his career.” Another important staff member was the doctor, “trainer,” not to be confused with the modern sense of the word, pertaining to a physician. In the earliest days of gladiatorial combat, gladiators received their training from private citizens who were skilled in the use of edged weapons, but by the first century ce, they were under the tutelage of doctores, professional trainers. And these doctores did not train gladiators in general, but, much like a modern professional football or baseball team that employs specialized position coaches, the same dynamic was true in the ludi; hence, we have inscriptions pertaining to trainers of murmillones, hoplomachi, and sagittarii. Presumably, the other gladiatorial classifications also had their own trainers. There were still others who played a part in the gladiatorial schools, or at least in service to gladiators. Tailors, for example, took charge of ensuring that the gladiators were dressed appropriately when they entered the arena. CIL 6.3756, for example, refers to a certain Felix, an ex-slave, who is identified as an a veste gladiatoria, a servant whose job was to tend to the wardrobe of the gladiators.

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Finally, the primary officials in the Ludus Magnus, or any other gladiatorial school: the lanista, and the procurator. The lanista functioned as the overseer of training in a school. Therefore, his role encompassed that of the doctor, but was not as specialized. Beyond the training of gladiators, however, the lanistae also had managerial and organizational responsibilities. They were also occasionally involved in buying and selling gladiators. Sometimes, lanistae were not employed by a specific gladiatorial school, but were more like traveling entrepreneurs, putting on shows from town to town. Not surprisingly, the social status of the lanistae was very low. The poet Martial ranks their trade slightly below those practiced by whores, pimps, informers, and dishonest businessmen. The philosopher Seneca compares a lanista to a farmer who feeds and cares for his flock, only to slaughter and skin the best cattle. He also refers to those who ply this trade as beneath contempt, the embodiment of evil. In some cases, apparently, the lanistae themselves were not very proud of their chosen profession. The historian J. P. V. D. Balsdon observes that of the hundreds of Latin inscriptions in which trades and occupations of individuals are mentioned, not one of them contains any direct reference to a lanista. However, there is one interesting exception to this rule: the inscription pertaining to one Marcus Julius Olympus (CIL 12.727). He is described as a negotiator familiae gladiatoriae: “the dealer of a gladiatorial familia,” a phrase which seems to be a euphemistic end-run around the negative sounding word lanista. The Ludus Matutinus: Although the Ludus Magnus was the largest and best known gladiatorial school in Rome, there were also several others, most notably the Ludus Matutinus, although none is as well documented as the Ludus Magnus. The Ludus Matutinus is thought to have specialized in the training of wild beast hunters; the Latin word matutinus means “pertaining to the morning,” and it was in the morning that the mock beast hunts generally occurred in the amphitheater. A ludus in Pompeii: The archaeologist August Mau described the discoveries made at a gladiatorial school (and/or barracks) unearthed in Pompeii. He writes that many weapons were found there, as well as other equipment: fifteen helmets, many leg or shin guards, belts with metaltrimmed borders, and some armlets. The helmets were visored, and some were equipped with a broad rim; all were heavily decorated. Interestingly, the skeleton of a horse was found, as well as the remnants of the horse’s bronze trappings. Apparently, spectators at Pompeian shows saw essedarii, or equites fight, or perhaps both. Also discovered were pieces of a coat of mail, and six galeri, the shoulder paddings used by retiarii. The spear point of a lance, a sword, and some dag-

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gers emerged, in addition to two wooden foot lockers which contained cloth sewn with golden thread. Archaeologists surmised that the cloth items were used in the fabrication of gladiators’ costumes. In one of the side rooms of the building, the remains of stocks were found, where recalcitrant gladiators were apparently restrained. The design of the stocks offered their captives the choice of lying down, or sitting upright. Mau’s description continues. In the two rooms in which the spearhead, and the other offensive weapons were found, there were eighteen skeletons, among them that of a woman richly adorned with gold jewelry, … a necklace with emeralds, earrings, and two armbands, besides rings…. In a room near the southwest corner the bones of a new-born infant were found…. Were the barracks wholly given up to gladiators at the time of the eruption [of Mount Vesuvius in 79], or were some other persons allowed to have quarters here…? A certain conclusion cannot be reached.

Sources: Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. Cicero, Letters to Atticus, 4. 4a. CIL 6.10165; 6.10166. Martial, Epigrams 11.66. Mau, August. Pompeii. Its Life and Art (translated by Francis W. Kelsey). New York and London: Macmillan, 1902. Platner, Samuel, and Thomas Ashby. A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome. London: Oxford University Press, 1929. Scarborough, John. Roman Medicine. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1969. Seneca the Younger, On Benefits 6.12.

Martial on Roman sports. The poet Martial (full Roman name: Marcus Valerius Martialis, ca. 40–104 ce) wrote over 1,500 poems over the course of his career, most of them published under the title Epigrams. He was a satirist and social critic, a poet whose pithy (and often very short) epigrams mocked the flaws and foibles of his fellow Romans. Most modern readers of Martial’s poetry would probably not immediately link his name with Roman sports, but in a surprisingly large number of his poems, there can be found references to the arena and racetrack (sometimes fleeting, but references nonetheless), as well as to hunting and fishing activities. A sampling of these references follows: Book IV, Poem 67 (of his Epigrams). The subject of this epigram is a certain Gaurus, and his efforts to acquire the 400,000 sesterces necessary to qualify for equestrian social status. He has 300,000, and he is hoping that an unnamed praetor will advance him the remainder. The praetor’s response: that he has to make a gift (probably funding for statues) to the charioteers Scorpus and Thallus, and that he wishes it were only 100,000 sesterces. Gaurus is bitterly incensed about the praetor’s financial priorities: so much money spent on statues of charioteers and horses, but nothing left over to fund Gaurus’ dream of becoming a horseman (that is, a member of the equestrian social class). Book X, Poem 9. This short poem, as others, displays Martial’s antipa-

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thy toward, or perhaps jealousy of, the charioteering establishment. He refers rather vaingloriously to himself as a witty poet who is notus gentibus, and notus populis; “known to [all] nations and to [all] peoples,” or more loosely, “world famous.” He claims for himself these lofty epithets because of his ability to string together exquisitely crafted verses of poetry. And yet despite such sterling qualities, he laments that he is no more famous than Andraemon, a horse used in the races. Book X, Poem 53. Although Martial is sometimes sarcastically critical of chariot racing and the popularity which it engenders, he seems genuinely saddened at the death of the noted agitator Scorpus. Poem 53 is reminiscent of an epitaph, in which the charioteer speaks, referring to himself as that famous Scorpus, the clamosi Gloria Circi, “the glory of the noisy Circus [Maximus].” He laments that Lachesis, one of the three Fates who determined a person’s lifespan, made off with him in his third triennium (i.e., before he reached the age of 30). She counted up his many wins on the racetrack, and thus—perhaps mistakenly—thought that he was an old man. Scorpus is also mentioned in a very brief, two-line inscription (CIL 6.10052): “Scorpus won with these horses: Pegasus, Elates, Andraemo, Cotynus.” Andraemo is undoubtedly the same horse referenced in Book X, Poem 9 (above), with a slight variation in the spelling of the name: Andraemon. Book XI, Poem 69. This poem is written from the first-person point of view, in the manner of an epitaph, but the narrator is a hunting dog named Lydia! Lydia says that she was born and raised in the amphitheater to be a hunter, one that was “fierce in the woods, gentle in the house.” Lydia is faithful to her master, Dexter, who would not even have preferred the famous dogs of Greek mythology, like Laelaps, a wondrous animal that always caught its prey, or Argus, Odysseus’ old hound, that recognized his master after he had been absent from Ithaca for 20 years. Lydia’s end comes on a dangerous hunt, when she is attacked and killed by a huge, lightning-fast boar. But no complaints; she cannot imagine a more honorable fate.

Martial’s On the Spectacles. Martial’s On the Spectacles is a collection of approximately 30 short epigrammatic poems commemorating the dedication of the Coliseum in 80 ce. The emperor Titus is mentioned frequently, because it was during his reign (79–81 ce) that the building was constructed and dedicated. Many of the poems describe the exhibitions of gladiators, beast fighters, and animals that were a part of the dedication ceremonies. Synopses of select epigrams*: *There seems to be some scholarly dispute about the proper ordering and numbering of the epigrams. The numbering system used by the Loeb editor/translator, D. R. Shackleton Bailey, is also used in this entry.

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Epigram One serves as a kind of introduction to the whole work. Martial enumerates some of the ancient world’s most famous structures: the Egyptian pyramids; the palace at Babylon; the temple of Artemis at Ephesus; the mausoleum at Halicarnassus. All of these buildings found a place on the list of the Seven Wonders of the World, but the Coliseum’s fame, Martial predicts, will eclipse them all. Epigram Two: Martial describes the location of the Coliseum, which was built on the site formerly occupied by the emperor Nero’s outlandish palace, the Golden House. The site where once could be seen the excesses of a depraved emperor has now been returned to the rightful occupants, the people of Rome. In Epigram Three, the poet notes that people have come from all over the known world to celebrate the opening of the Coliseum, including visitors from Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, and Britain. Epigram Six: The construction of this new facility will help to spread the fame of Titus. In Epigram Seven, Martial observes that Mars serves Titus in the arena, but so does Venus. The translator and editor D. R. Shackleton Bailey suggests that the allusion to Venus conveys the message that women sometimes fought as gladiators. The idea that women sometimes participated in gladiatorial combat is continued in the epigram that follows, where Martial references the fame won by the legendary Hercules, for killing the Nemean Lion (one of his celebrated Twelve Labors). Hercules’ feat is matched, says Martial, by women appearing in the shows. Epigram Ten: A certain Daedalus, probably a bestiarius, gets the worst of it when fighting a Lucanian bear. Martial remarks that the unfortunate Daedalus probably wished at that moment that he had his wings (a reference to the mythological Daedalus, who fashioned a pair of functioning wings for himself and his son Icarus, to enable them to escape the Minotaur’s labyrinth by flying away). In Epigrams Eleven through Thirteen, Martial references three animals that were displayed during the dedicatory events of the Coliseum. Eleven: Martial describes the rhinoceros, a beast that was so strong it could toss around a bull like a pila, a cloth ball used to goad and incite arena animals. Twelve: He turns his attention to a lion that was apparently condemned to the arena because it had injured its trainer with its “ungrateful mouth,” by lacerating the man’s hands. Thirteen: He next writes about a bear that, as it ran from its attackers, somehow fell, having been tangled up in a patch of bird-lime (a sticky substance usually applied to tree branches, to aid in capturing wild birds; Martial does not explain why bird-lime had apparently been smeared on the arena floor). He notes that no weapons were thrown at the upended beast; if strategies used for bird-catching have now made their

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way to the arena, why not wait until the bear flies before shooting or throwing projectiles at it? Epigrams Fourteen, Fifteen and Sixteen all describe the dispatching of a pregnant sow. One of the spears hurled at her pierced her mid-section, and a piglet emerged, apparently alive and well. Martial notes the irony: the same spear that took the life of the mother bestowed life on her newborn offspring. In Epigram Seventeen, Martial praises the prowess of a bestiarius named Carpophorus (whom he also mentions in several later epigrams). This Carpophorus once dispatched a bear charging directly at him. Another time, he stretched out an immense lion, a beast which would have impressed even Hercules (an indirect reference to Hercules slaying the intractable Nemean Lion). He was so skilled at bringing down prey at a distance that he once killed a swift-footed leopard from afar. In Epigram Twenty-One, Martial relates an interesting anecdote about a female tiger which, when living in the wilds, would never confront a male of her species, but in the arena, she attacked and tore apart a fierce wild lion. The poet comments that once the tigress came to Rome, and “lived among us,” she acquired a new and fierce belligerence. Epigram Twenty-Two. An overconfident bull? Apparently so. He had recklessly roamed through the whole arena, grabbing the cloth practice balls (pilae) in his mouth and tossing them skyward. He thought he could easily do the same to an elephant, but he met his match and then some when he tried to toss the beast. Epigram Twenty-Three. Partisanship in the Coliseum? Apparently so. Martial mentions that some fans wanted to see a certain Myrinus fight, while others preferred Triumphus. (The poet does not state whether the two were gladiators, or beast fighters.) Titus pleased everyone by ordering that both men appear. Epigram Twenty-Six. In Epigram Eleven, Martial indirectly describes the taunting and goading of a rhinoceros. In Twenty-Six, the account is more specific: a couple fearful attendants were trying, without apparent or obvious success, to rouse another rhinoceros to a fever pitch of anger. The spectators began to become restless; perhaps they would not see the ferocious combats which they were expecting. But eventually, the animal displayed the aggressiveness that everyone was waiting for. In a demonstration of its power and fury, it impaled a bear with its horns, and hurled it toward the stars, much like a bull does with the cloth practice balls (pilae) often used in the arena. Enter the famous Carpophorus, also the hero of Epigram Seventeen. Although Martial does not mention whether Carpophorus confronted the rampaging rhinoceros, he praises the young man’s superior spear-casting ability, and exults that he overcame two buffaloes simultaneously. Not only

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that, but he also chased down a terrified lion that unsuccessfully attempted to elude his unerring spears. So, Martial rhetorically asks the spectators, was the delay in seeing some action worth it? In Epigram Twenty-Seven, Martial turns his attention to the amazing capacity of the Coliseum floor to be flooded, for mock sea battles. He addresses spectators who have traveled to Rome from some faraway place for the dedication ceremonies, but may have arrived a little late, and thus might be surprised to view an artificial lake, where they were expecting to see sand. He assures these latecomers that it is not an optical illusion; they actually are gazing on water, ships, and a battle. But if they wait even a short while, the water will be drained, and dry land will reappear. Epigram Thirty: This epigram offers something of a respite from the general theme of bloodletting and mayhem so seemingly constant in the other epigrams. Here, the poet describes a kind of a water and light show put on by a group of synchronized swimmers whom he terms as “Nereids,” apparently humans dressed to resemble mythical sea creatures. Bailey remarks that these “well-trained” individuals “presented somehow the picture of a boat and rowers, possibly [illuminated by] artificial light.” In epigram Thirty-One, Martial recounts a gladiatorial bout between two combatants named Priscus and Verus. The two were evidently equally matched, because their contest dragged out for some time with neither man gaining the advantage, and with the increasingly impatient crowd demanding that the presiding magistrate (the emperor) declare it a draw. But he was reluctant to do so, given that he himself had imposed a rule stating that gladiatorial combats must continue until a clear winner emerged. He tried to satisfy the desires of the crowd by giving them gifts. Finally, the gladiators themselves ended it, by simultaneously yielding to the other. Titus was apparently glad to be relieved of any necessity to intervene; he sent the palm of victory to both men, as well as wooden swords (rudis in Latin; the wooden sword was symbolic of a gladiator’s retirement). Martial comments on the happy outcome: two gladiators dueled, and both of them triumphed. Epigram Thirty-Two: Once more, Martial celebrates the amazing feats of the bestiarius Carpophorus. He speculates that if Carpophorus had lived in an earlier age, when truly vicious creatures roamed the earth, he could have subdued them all, including those that Hercules killed: the Nemean Lion (Hercules’ First Labor); the Lernaean Hydra (his Second Labor); the Erymanthian Boar (his Fourth Labor); and the Cretan Bull (his Eighth Labor). Several other mythical monsters are mentioned as likely victims of Carpophorus, had he lived in their times. Finally, Martial suggests that Hercules’ reputation as a fierce warrior

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depends on his numbered Labors; Carpophorus has performed an even greater feat, by dispatching 20 beasts in one bout in the amphitheater. Epigram Thirty-Four: Martial reviews the history of mock sea fights in Rome, dating back to the time of Augustus, as well as similar exhibitions produced by the emperors Claudius (reigned 41–54 ce) and Nero (54–68). He concludes that their efforts in this regard were rather paltry compared to the watery sights to be seen in the Coliseum, and he predicts that future generations will remember only the battles staged during Titus’ reign. Sources: Bailey, D. R. Shackleton (tr.). Martial. Epigrams. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993. Martial, On the Spectacles.

Musclosus (charioteer). A fairly brief funerary inscription provides information about the charioteer Musclosus. The translation of his epitaph: “To the Underworld Gods. A driver for the Red faction. A Tuscan [i.e., from central Italy]. He won a total of 682 palms: three while a member of the White faction. Five with the Greens. Two with the Blues. 672 with the Reds. Apuleia Verecunda, wife to this dearest husband, erected [this monument].” The ordering of Musclosus’ victories is presumably (although not certainly) chronological; he apparently began his career as a member of the White faction, before moving on to the Blues and Greens. But he obviously met his greatest success with the Reds, and he apparently spent most of his career in that faction. (His career path thus closely resembles that of the celebrated Appuleius Diocles.) This inscription, like many similar ones pertaining both to charioteers and to gladiators, is difficult to date with precision. It provides no data about the charioteer’s year of birth or death, nor any indication of the year in which he began driving chariots. However, it is possible to make some educated guesses. Since Musclosus drove for the Greens at one point in his career, the inscription can probably be dated no earlier than 35 ce, the first known year (according to the historian H. A. Harris) in which the Green faction is mentioned in inscriptional evidence. Also, the Latin text refers to his victories as palmas (“palms”). There is no mention of praemia (“rewards,” i.e., cash prizes), a word which appears frequently in the second century ce Diocles inscription. So it seems that Musclosus probably raced chariots in the mid or late first century ce. A “Musclosus” is also mentioned in the Diocles inscription, but he is almost certainly not the same man who is referenced in CIL 6.10063. Source: CIL 6.10063. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972.

Musical performances. It might be difficult to imagine that a musical performance could turn into a violent and dangerous competition, but that very

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turn of events happened at least once, in 168 bce. In that year, the Roman general Lucius Anicius won a military victory over the Illyrians; when he returned to Rome, he brought with him the Illyrian king Genthius as a captive, and also the king’s children. In honor of his success, Anicius sponsored celebratory games, featuring in particular a band composed of highly skilled Greek musicians. He ordered a huge stage to be constructed in the Circus Maximus for the concert, and then ushered in the flute and pipe players, as well as a group of dancers. And so the show began, with the musicians playing their instruments, and the dancers moving along with the music. However, Anicius was evidently not pleased with the tempo or the quality of sound which the pipers and flautists were producing. So he sent a message to them informing them of his displeasure, and requesting that they begin to aggressively compete with each other. They did not understand what Anicius wanted, so one of the magistrates presiding at the event showed them, with gestures, that they were to organize formations, and move toward one another, as if in a battle. So they did precisely that, not physically attacking each other, but instead, producing raucously cacophonous sounds with their instruments, as if competing to see who could most emphatically assault the ears of the others, with the “music” which they were playing. The dancers, too, picked up on this competitive chaos, advancing toward one another, and then retreating, all the while stomping their feet and waving their garments. One of the dancers wrapped his costume snugly around his body, made a quick pirouette, put up his fists, and confronted one of the pipers; an impromptu boxing match seemed imminent. When the audience saw this, they broke into cheers and loud applause. Meanwhile, four boxers jumped up onto the stage; they were apparently not part of the group of dancers or musicians, but rather spectators taking advantage of an opportunity to mix it up with the hired performers. At this point, the situation had deteriorated into a quasi-brawl, with pipers, flautists, dancers, and boxers all randomly wrangling with each other. The disorderly confusion was exactly what Anicius desired: a truly memorable victory celebration. Source: Athenaeus (paraphrasing the historian Polybius), The Learned Banqueters 14.

Naumachiae. The ancient Romans were seemingly not content with merely watching gladiators, boxers, pankratiasts, and others compete against one another in dangerous sports; they also enjoyed viewing mock sea battles, where reenactments of famous naval engagements would be presented in natural or artificial lakes and reservoirs.

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Julius Caesar was the first to sponsor a naumachia, in 46 bce, on the occasion of his triumphal return to Rome after his military victories in the civil war which had started in 49. To stage this sea battle, he ordered that an artificial lake be constructed in a portion of the Campus Martius called the Lesser Codeta. Featured in this battle were Tyrian and Egyptian ships, equipped with multiple banks of oars, and manned by a large number of fighters; according to Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities, each ship was furnished with 2,000 rowers, and 1,000 soldiers. This body of water did not last, however; a few years later, in 43, it was drained, to prevent outbreaks of air and water-borne illnesses. The next notable naumachia occurred in 2 bce, under the sponsorship of the emperor Augustus, as part of a celebration commemorating the opening of a temple in honor of the god Mars. A new artificial lake was constructed for Augustus’ naumachia, not far from the site of Caesar’s mock sea battle, but on the opposite side of the Tiber River. In his autobiography, Augustus proclaims that the lake measured 1,800 feet long, and 1,200 feet wide. An aqueduct was built specifically for the purpose of supplying the water to this new lake: the aqueduct was called the Aqua Alsietina, about 20 miles long. Thirty ships, some with two banks of oars, and others with three, involving some 3,000 men, fought in the battle. Some of these ships represented Persians, others, Athenians. Not surprisingly, the Athenians won, just as they had in the fifth century bce Battle of Salamis. The most memorable naumachia of all occurred in 52 ce, during the reign of the emperor Claudius. This engagement took place on the Fucine Lake, a natural body of water east of Rome. Since this lake had no outlets, its fluctuating levels sometimes flooded the surrounding countryside. For many years before Claudius, there had been discussions about the possibility of draining the lake, but no one ever undertook this daunting task, until Claudius. He ordered a trench (emissarium) to be dug from the lake to a nearby river, a difficult proposition, requiring three years, and 30,000 laborers, working constantly. However, before the gates were opened to allow the lake’s water to drain off into the emissarium, Claudius decreed that a mock naval battle should be held on the lake. And what a spectacular battle it was. The festivities were begun when a silver Triton (a huge sea god) miraculously arose from the middle of the lake, propelled upwards by some sort of mechanical contrivance. This Triton blew on a horn to signal the start of the battle, which featured 12 triremes (large warships with three banks of oars) representing Sicilians, and 12 more in the guise of Rhodians; a total of 19,000 men participated. The details of this mock conflict are nicely described by the historian Tacitus: In order that the impressive character of the work [the emissarium connecting the lake with the river] might be viewed by a larger number of visitors, a naval battle was

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arranged on the lake itself, on the model of an earlier spectacle given by Augustus [the one in 2 bce, described above]…. Claudius equipped triremes, quadriremes, and nineteen thousand combatants; the lists [i.e., the lake’s perimeter] he surrounded with rafts, so as to leave no unauthorized points of escape, but reserved space enough in the center to display the vigor of the rowing, the skills of the helmsmen, the impetus of the galleys, and the usual incidents of an engagement. On the rafts were stationed companies and squadrons of the praetorian cohorts, covered by a breastwork from which to operate their catapults; the rest of the lake was occupied by sailors with decked vessels. The shores, the hills, the mountain crests, formed a kind of theater, soon filled by an untold multitude, attracted from the neighboring towns, and in part from the capital itself [Rome], by curiosity or by respect for the sovereign [Claudius]…. The battle, though one of criminals, was contested with the spirit and courage of freemen; and after much blood had flowed, the combatants were exempted from destruction. (tr. Jackson).

Perhaps the most spectacular naumachia of all occurred a couple decades after Claudius’ memorable sea battle, in 80 ce, during the reign of the emperor Titus (79–81 ce). The emperor decreed several days of games and celebrations to commemorate the opening of his new Flavian Amphitheater, better known as the Coliseum. Included in these festivities was a mock sea battle held in the same venue that Augustus had constructed in 2 bce. Titus also ordered the Coliseum to be transformed into a watery venue by ordering the arena to be flooded; and after the level had reached a sufficient depth, various land animals, including horses and bulls, that had been taught to swim were led into the water. After that, ships manned by sailors and soldiers were put on display to re-enact a battle between the Corcyreans and Corinthians (who had a long history of mutual distrust). There was also a gladiatorial show and a mock beast hunt in the flooded Coliseum; the water was covered over with wooden planks, to provide footing for the men and animals. A few days later, another naumachia was staged, this one involving 3,000 combatants. The poet Martial remarks that a visitor from some faraway land who happened to arrive after the naumachia had begun would be amazed to see a lake where once there was dry land, and then in a short time, to see land again where there used to be water. The historian Dio Cassius claims that the shows put on to celebrate the opening of the Coliseum represented the last important act of Titus’ reign. Titus’ successor as emperor, his brother Domitian (reigned 81–96), also sponsored mock sea battles, sometimes in the Coliseum, other times in a small artificial lake, replete with seats, near the Tiber River. Domitian watched these battles with great interest, not moving from his seat even during heavy rains. Sources: Peck, Harry Thurston (ed.). Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Antiquities. New York: Harper & Row, first printing, 1896. Augustus, Res Gestae Divi Augusti 23. Dio Cassius, Roman History 55, 66. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II (translated by J. H. Freese and Leonard A.

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Magnus). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Frontinus, The Aqueducts of Rome 1.11. Jackson, John (tr.). Martial, On the Spectacles 27. Tacitus. The Annals. Volume III [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1937. Suetonius, Life of Claudius 21; Life of Domitian 4. Life of Julius Caesar 39; Life of Titus 7. Tacitus, Annals 12. http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~ grout/encyclopedia_romana/gladiators/naumachia.html

Nero and Roman sports. (Full Roman name: Nero Claudius Caesar. 37–68 ce; reigned as emperor 54–68.) Nero, like several of his imperial brethren— most notably Claudius—was never a participant of the first order in any sort of risky athletic endeavor. However, he seemed to have an intense interest in these kinds of contests, and often sponsored or even originated them. When he was still a teenager, he married his first wife, Octavia. To commemorate and celebrate the event, and also as an expression of hope for the continued health of the emperor Claudius, he sponsored chariot races in the Circus Maximus, and also a mock wild beast hunt. Nonetheless, Claudius later became ill, and Nero, at the urging of his mother, Agrippina, promised to sponsor a horse race if Claudius should recover. Claudius did indeed subsequently regain his health, and Nero was as good as his word: he sponsored a lavish horse race. (Nero eventually divorced Octavia, and twelve days later married a lady named Poppaea Sabina, whom he accidentally killed by kicking her when she was pregnant; she had committed the unpardonable sin of chastising him for staying too late at the races.) Soon after he became the emperor, Nero produced a variety of entertainments called Juvenales, literally, games for young people. Also included were chariot races, dramatic performances, and gladiatorial combats. Paradoxically, the Juvenales featured elderly participants as well as youthful ones, both male and female. He decreed that the wealthier citizens should have specially reserved seats in the Circus, so that they would not have to rub elbows with “average” Romans. In the chariot races, he introduced a novelty: chariots pulled by four camels. The gladiatorial shows took place in a wooden amphitheater located near the Campus Martius. These were “no-kill” shows: over the course of a year’s worth of combats, not a single gladiator was killed, not even criminals. But the social standing of the participants was not confined to the criminal element; some 400 senators and 600 equestrians (Rome’s upper middle-class), including many of wealth and status, fought as gladiators. At another show, mounted riders chased down bulls, while riding next to them, and after that display, it was time for Nero’s personal bodyguards to show what they could do: using javelins, they killed 400 bears and 300 lions. Finally, 30 members of the equestrian class were pressed into service as gladiators. In 57 ce, during the production of a spectacle at one of the amphitheaters, he unexpectedly ordered the staging area to be filled with sea water

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containing a large number of fish and other sea creatures. Once the water was ready, he brought out two ships for a mock naval battle; one represented the Athenians, the other, the Persians. After the naumachia, the floor of the amphitheater was drained and dried, and the gladiatorial land battles resumed. Some contests were one-on-one, while others featured large groups of gladiators, equal in number and equipment. After the gladiatorial show, he ordered the arena to be flooded again, and then provided an expensive dinner for the spectators. In 60, Nero instituted a quinquennial series of events, the Neronia (named for himself), featuring contests in music, gymnastics and horsemanship. From a very young age, he was keenly interested in horses and chariots, and he incessantly talked about circus races, even though his teachers disapproved of such idle chatter. On one occasion, he was discussing with his fellow students an incident involving a Green faction driver who was thrown from his chariot and dragged along on the ground behind it. When his teacher overheard snatches of the conversation, and chided him about it, he claimed to have been talking about Hector (in Homer’s Iliad, whose corpse Achilles unceremoniously dragged behind his chariot). When he first became emperor, he was obsessed with playing with chariot figurines made of ivory, and he attended all the races, even the least prestigious ones, such that everyone knew where to find him on race days. He frequently expressed a desire to see an increase in the opportunities for charioteers to win prizes, with the result that the racing program was expanded. The managers of the factions soon became accustomed to preparing their drivers, horses, and equipment for a full day of competition. Nero was so keenly interested in horses and chariot racing that he ordered “retired” horses (those too old to race) to be decked out in human clothing, and provided subsidies for their feed. As a result, the horse owners and breeders, seeing his intense enthusiasm for things of the racetrack, began treating praetors and consuls with contempt. One of these praetors, a certain Aulus Fabricius (who apparently had some responsibility for providing horses for the races), found it impossible to negotiate with the breeders, so he terminated his business relationship with them and began training dogs to pull the chariots instead of horses. This, in turn, caused some dissension in the ranks of the charioteers; drivers of the White and Red factions went along with the plan for canine-powered chariots, but the Green and Blue faction charioteers refused to do so. Eventually, Nero intervened, subsidized the prizes, and the chariot race proceeded. Gradually, Nero developed a desire to drive a chariot himself in competition, and on the public racetracks. So he practiced, and eventually tried out his charioteering skills, first before a small audience of slaves and idlers

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in his private estates, and then later in the Circus Maximus, where he had one of his freedman drop the mappa (the white napkin signaling the start of the race). Nero commented that competing on the racetrack was a royal prerogative, and a tradition that originated with the earliest leaders and generals, one which was praised by poets and even approved by the gods in heaven. But it was not only the crowds in the Circus Maximus who were privileged to see this imperial faux charioteer display his racing proficiency. He appeared in many other places, including Olympia, where he drove a chariot pulled by ten horses, even though in one of his own writings, he criticized the first century bce Pontic king Mithridates for a similar stunt. Shortly after the demise of his mother, Nero honored her memory with a typically lavish and costly series of shows, produced over the span of several days, and unfolding in perhaps a half dozen different venues. The most shocking of these involved distinguished men and women being compelled to perform as dancers, gladiators, and charioteers; all these occupations would be viewed as grossly inappropriate for members of the Roman upper classes; they drove chariots, participated in mock hunts, and engaged in gladiatorial combat, some willingly, others not, but all of them performed nonetheless. “So the men of that day beheld the great families—the Furii, the Horatii, the Fabii, the Porcii, the Valerii…—standing down there below them and doing things some of which they formerly would not even watch when performed by others” (tr. Cary). Near the end of Nero’s reign, an Armenian ruler by the name of Tiridates traveled to Rome, to be officially crowned as king by the emperor. Tiridates made a sumptuous triumphal march from his homeland to Italy, funded by a per diem expense account of 800,000 sesterces for the nine-month journey. When he finally arrived, and met with Nero, he displayed extreme respect and even obsequiousness, which (not surprisingly) pleased Nero greatly. One way that Nero showed his appreciation was to sponsor a spectacular—and spectacularly expensive—gladiatorial show in honor of Tiridates. Included on the program were Ethiopian fighters: men, women, and even children. Later, when wild beasts were brought forth, Tiridates displayed his skill with the bow by shooting two bulls with one arrow, and this from his spectator’s seat. Afterwards, the crowning ceremony took place, followed by a lavish banquet. For the post-dinner entertainment, Nero dressed up as a Green faction driver, and drove a chariot, an act of false bravado which reportedly disgusted Tiridates. Sources: Cary, Earnest (tr.). Dio’s Roman History. Volume VIII [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1925. Dio Cassius, Roman History 61, 62. Suetonius, Life of Nero 7, 11, 12, 22, 24, 35. Tacitus, Annals 14.

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Ovid’s description of a young man attempting to attract a lady at the chariot races. One of the poems in Ovid’s Amores (Love Poems) deals with his attempt to attract the attention of a lady at the chariot races. She seems to be more interested in the action on the racetrack than in any action in the spectators’ seats, so Ovid has his work cut out for him. Eight excerpts from the clever and witty translation, by H. A. Harris, follow: 1. I’m no great student of horse-racing myself, but if you are keen on one of the drivers, then he’s my man, too. I’ve come here so as to be able to sit by you and talk, and let you know how I feel about you. You look at the races. I’ll look at you. Then we shall both be looking at what we like. 2. Whoever your favorite charioteer may be, what a lucky man he is! He is the one you care about. How I wish I were he! As soon as my team shot out of the traps, I would urge them on regardless. One moment I would give them their heads, the next I would ply the whip furiously, then graze the turning post with my near-side wheel. If I saw you among the crowd as I flashed past, I would pull back, and the reins would fall slack in my hands. 3. Why are you edging away from me? It’s no use. We must keep inside our lines on the seats. That’s the best of being in the Circus. You, sir, on the lady’s right! Be careful. You are hurting her with your pushing. And you behind, keep your feet to yourself and don’t poke your knee into her back. 4. Now your dress is trailing in the dust. Pick it up—or rather, let me; I can brush the dirt off of it. It was too bad of that dress to hide such lovely legs. The longer I look, the lovelier they are. Would you like me to fan you with my race card? Or perhaps it is my love that is so warm, not the day. Look, a [smudge of dust] has fallen on your white frock; get away, filth, from this lovely figure. 5. But now the parade is coming. Now is the time to cheer and clap; the golden procession is here. 6. But look, your legs are dangling, with nothing to rest them on. I’m sorry I forgot to bring a stool. If you like you can poke your toes through the holes in the railings in front. Let me put your cushion straight. Now the track is clear for the big race…. The praetor has started them from the [starting gates]. I can see your favorite driver. With you as supporter, he’s sure to win. Even his horses seem to know what you want. 7. But look! He has swung wide round the turn. What are you doing? The man just behind is catching up with you. What are you doing, you

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fool? You are letting my lady down badly. For Heaven’s sake, throw your weight into those left-hand reins…. I’m afraid, my dear, we’ve backed a worthless bum. [However, things turn out just fine in the end; their favored charioteer wins the race!] 8. Well, my lady’s prayers have been granted, and her charioteer has won; mine remain to be gratified. He has his palm of victory. I have still to ask for mine. She smiled. Sources: Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Ovid, Amores 3.2; Metamorphoses 10. http://www.ancientworlds.net/aw/Article/606137 (“A Fateful Chariot Race: The Story of Pelops and Oenomaus”)

Pacideianus (gladiator). Pacideianus was a Roman gladiator whose dates are uncertain, although he must have lived during the time of the poet Lucilius (ca. 180–102 bce), who commemorates him in verse. The poet describes the violence and ferocity with which Pacideianus psychologically prepared himself to meet his opponent: “I’ll kill him, and I’ll win. I’ll first take his blow in my face. I’ll stick my sword into the idiot’s stomach and lungs. I hate the man. I fight with fury. To this extreme I am swept away by blind anger and hatred for the man, and by my own rage.” The celebrated Roman orator Cicero (106–43 bce) seemed to be quite fond of gladiatorial metaphors and comparisons, and in that capacity, he mentions Pacideianus on several occasions. For example, in a discussion about the virtues of having a calm demeanor in philosophical debates, as opposed to an aggressively angry approach, Cicero cites Pacideianus as an example of the latter personality, the type portrayed by the quotation from Lucilius. He suggests that Pacideianus could not have been successful in the arena without “psyching himself up” in the manner described by Lucilius; a brave man cannot be brave in such circumstances unless he first begins to work himself into a rage. Interestingly, Cicero introduces Pacideianus in another context, this time when discussing the art of oratory. In describing the noted Athenian orator Isocrates (436–338 bce), Cicero uses a gladiatorial metaphor: he writes that Isocrates—whose contributions to oratory were confined mostly to speeches that he composed but did not recite; he seldom involved himself personally in public debates or court cases—did not participate in the hurlyburly of the battlefield, brandishing a sharpened sword, but preferred to use the rudis, a wooden sword, the kind used by gladiators in training. In the same passage, he asserts that the most famous Athenian orator of them all, Demosthenes (384–322 bce), was the oratorical equivalent of a Pacideianus, whom Cicero considered to be the best fighter ever. He also notes that Demos-

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thenes’ famous fourth century bce rival, Aeschines, was comparable to the gladiator Aeserninus, with whom Pacideianus was often paired in bouts; Aeschines, like Aeserninus, was sharp and skilled, not at all an unworthy opponent, but still no match for Demosthenes. In a letter to his brother Quintus, Cicero once again returns to the Pacideianus/Aeserninus image in the course of describing a trial which took place in 54 bce. A certain Aulus Gabinius (whom Cicero hated) had been accused of bribery and provincial mismanagement, but the jury acquitted him. Cicero was furious with the verdict, and ruefully second-guessed himself for not having undertaken the prosecution of the case. But had he done, he wrote to Quintus, he would have risked alienating Gabinius’ ally Pompey, an influential politician and general. He envisioned a confrontation between himself and Pompey as something like a match-up of Pacideianus and Aeserninus (with Cicero, of course, cast as Pacideianus). In one of his satires, the first century bce Roman poet Horace also mentions Pacideianus. The poet’s subject is philosophy, and his main point is that only philosophers are truly free, because only they can master their thoughts and emotions. The poem is constructed in the form of a dialogue between Horace and his slave, Davus, who mocks his master for his inconsistent stances on many issues. Artwork, for example. Davus notes that Horace loves the work of famous painters, like the fourth century bce Greek artist Pausias, and will gawk at his paintings in dazed admiration. And yet when a slave like Davus gazes upon the chalk and charcoal, lifelike wall portraits of a gladiator like Pacideianus, and his fellow fighters Fulvius and Rutuba, brandishing their weapons, feinting and striking, he would be chided for his childish interest in what Horace considers to be third-rate, pop-culture artwork. Horace is known as an art connoisseur, while Davus is a worthless good-for-nothing. Sources: Cicero, Letters to his Brother Quintus 3; On the Best Kind of Orators 17; Tusculan Disputations 4.48. Horace, Satire 2.7. Lucilius, in Remains of Old Latin, Volume III, LCL, pp. 56, 58.

Pedibus ad quadrigam. The technical vocabulary of Roman chariot racing contains many terms whose exact meaning or applicability to the track are unclear. A good example of this is the term pedibus ad quadrigam (literal meaning: “on foot toward the chariot”), apparently a technique used by charioteers to attain victory. Oddly, the term appears only once, in a fairly lengthy inscription in honor of the charioteer Publius Aelius Gutta Calpurnianus, CIL 6.10047 b. The text of the document indicates that Calpurnianus won 61 races in this manner. Historians have suggested various meanings for pedibus ad quadrigam. Ludwig Friedlaender, in Roman Life and Manners, and J.P.V.D. Balsdon, in Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome, argue that some sort of double victory is

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indicated, that two men rode together in the chariot, the driver and a runner; at some point in the race, probably near the end, the runner dismounted, and continued the contest on foot to the finish line. H. A. Harris, in Sport in Greece and Rome, offers a similar interpretation, but in his view, only the driver (not a second man) occupied the chariot, and at some point, he abandoned it, and finished the race on foot. These explanations, while ingenious, seem to be a little far-fetched. There is no evidence to suggest that Roman chariot racing ever underwent the sort of metamorphosis that would result from combining it with a foot race. Dismounting and covering the last part of the race on foot (Harris’ theory) would have been more than simply dangerous; it would have been suicidal. After all, not all the charioteers would arrive at the dismount point at the same time, so that the first man to begin the foot racing portion of the contest would have to compete for running room with the other chariots still on the track. Perhaps a fan base that apparently enjoyed watching blood-letting in the Coliseum would with equal delight have observed men on foot run over by men in chariots. This, however, is doubtful; partisanship ran high at the races, and no true supporter of any faction would wish to see one of his heroes trampled to death by a rival charioteer’s horses. Plus, there is the matter of the little word ad; it means “toward,” not “away from.” Yet a foot race as envisioned in the preceding theories would require the driver (or runner) to leap out of the chariot and run away from it, not toward it. An alternative explanation: the foot race—and it seems likely that some sort of foot race occurred, given the presence of the word pedibus, “on foot”— took place at the beginning of the chariot race, and not at some point during or after it. Perhaps at the start each driver sprinted toward (ad) his chariot, mounted it, and then began the race. The sprint to the chariots would have to be short enough to ensure that each driver arrived at his waiting chariot at about the same time. In any event, the complete lack of additional citations to this style of racing indicates that it was experimental and short-lived. If foot/chariot races were common, or even occasional, there would certainly be references to them in other literary or epigraphical sources. Sources: Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, 7.73. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II. (Translated by J. H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus.) London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972.

Petronius and Roman sports. Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis (Trimalchio’s Dinner) is a one-of-a-kind piece of literature: a satirical story about one Gaius

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Trimalchio. He is filthy rich, bombastic, rude, crude, condescending, ostentatious in the extreme, and poorly informed about Greek and Roman history and culture—but he thinks that he is an authority on those topics, as well as a good many others. His dinner party includes a motley array of guests who talk, argue, debate, insult each other, and generally pontificate as they help themselves to the ample and often exotic food and drink put before them. Not surprisingly, some of the table talk concerns contemporary gladiators and gladiatorial shows, and also a few references to Roman chariot racing. Some examples follow: Chapter 36: Four slaves enter the banquet hall, bearing a large tray full of various kinds of meat. Trimalchio calls for yet another slave to come forward to carve the meat. The slave complies with the order; Petronius said that he wielded the carving knife in such a way that “you would think that he was an essedarius fighting to the playing of a water organ” (tr. Arrowsmith). There are scattered references in the ancient literature suggesting that gladiators sometimes fought to musical accompaniment, so it is not particularly surprising that Petronius would make that connection. More puzzling is why he would specify an essedarius, as opposed to another gladiatorial classification, or even the general term, gladiator. Chapter 45: At this point in the story, Trimalchio has temporarily excused himself to visit the restroom. In his absence, the dinner guests became less restrained in their table talk. In Chapter 45, the clothes peddler Echion gets his turn to pontificate. He is viewed as a rather crude individual, whose social status seems to be a notch below that of his fellow diners. He upbraids the others for complaining too much about the temper of the times. After all, he reminds them, a big gladiatorial show is coming up soon, in only a couple days. And only top-shelf gladiators will be performing, not run-of-the-mill riffraff that sometimes appears in the arena. (Here is an indication that spectators at gladiatorial shows did not attend merely out of a lust to see blood flowing; rather, they were often sophisticated and discerning, and they could distinguish skillfully fought matches involving professionals, from bouts between untrained novices or draftees.) Next, Echion, in a moment of name-dropping, mentions a certain Titus, whom he claims to know well but who is not further identified; this Titus may have been the producer of the show. Echion is confident that the gladiators who perform will be first rate, because old Titus never stints on the expense when he puts together an arena extravaganza; he is worth at least 30,000,000 sesterces. And what a show it will be! No cowardly gladiators will be put on display; none of Titus’ combatants will flee from the fray. It will be a fight to the finish, and the amphitheater will resemble a slaughter house. And not only is he bringing in those barrel-chested fighting men; he is also planning to have a woman fight while riding in a chariot. (Essedariae—women

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who fought from chariots—occasionally participated in gladiatorial shows. The historian Tacitus, for example, mentions that quite a few women appeared in shows in 64 ce during Nero’s reign, although he does not specifically state that they fought as essedariae.) Later in his discourse, Echion criticizes another sponsor of gladiatorial shows, one Norbanus by name. He complains that the estimable Norbanus never puts on a good show; he exhibits gladiators that are sesteriarii, “hardly worth a sesterce” (roughly equivalent to the English expression “not worth a plug nickel”); his gladiators are also typically decrepiti, “worn out”; “over the hill.” These ersatz performers would hit the deck if someone so much as breathed on them. He claims that he has seen bestiarii (“beast fighters,” generally considered to be inferior to the more highly skilled wild animal hunters, the venatores) that were better than the chicken-livered stiffs that Norbanus trots out on to the arena floor. One of his fighters is skinny as a beanpole, while another is disgustingly gimpy. He does have in his assemblage a substitute gladiator, but he is death warmed over, with a hamstring injury that renders him worthless. He features a Thracian gladiator who has a little life in him, but he is boring to watch, because he fights strictly by the book. Echion goes on to report that at Norbanus’ most recent show, the overall performance was so shoddy that he had to have all the gladiators flogged, in order to save them from a potentially worse fate at the hands of the angry spectators. Norbanus’ plea—that at least he provided some semblance of a show—was not received kindly. The general consensus seemed to be that Norbanus should not complain; he got his money. Sources: Arrowsmith, William (tr.). Petronius. The Satyricon. New York: New American Library, 1983. Petronius, Trimalchio’s Dinner 36, 45. Smith, Martin S. (ed.). Petronii Arbitri. Cena Trimalchionis. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975. Tacitus, Annals 15.32.

Physician to the gladiators. Galen of Pergamum (ca. 129–200 ce) was probably the foremost medical practitioner and theorist of the ancient world. He was born in Pergamum (in modern western Turkey). His father, Aelius Nico, was a respected and successful architect in Pergamum, and he saw to it that his son received a broad-based education that included studies in literature, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and agriculture. The beginnings of Galen’s focus on medicine came when his father had a dream that his son should become a physician; accordingly, he journeyed to Alexandria (Egypt), about 152, to embark upon medical studies. But he also remained interested in philosophy, and throughout his life, he applied philosophical precepts to his practice of medicine. His stay in Egypt lasted until 157. After his years of study in Alexandria—probably equivalent to a modern medical school education—he returned to his hometown of Pergamum,

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where he accepted a post as physician to the city’s gladiators. This provided him with the opportunity to further his anatomical studies, and perhaps more importantly, to gain practical experience by treating the wounds of the gladiators. These injuries—no doubt similar to the ones suffered by modern athletes engaging in dangerous sports—he treated with a combination of surgery, massage, liniments, and pharmaceuticals, as well as rehabilitation regimens. Some modern historians refer to him with the honorific title “Father of Sports Medicine,” for his skill in caring for these wounds. Some of Galen’s methods may seem unorthodox. For example, his approach to treating fractures and dislocations required the patient to lie in a supine position on a surgical table called the Hippocratic bench. This device was equipped with a series of leather straps which, when wrapped around the patient, tightened and pulled, could stretch out his body. The principle sounds modern: tension is applied to ensure that the broken bones would be aligned properly, and set straight. Galen perfected his methods and expanded his medical knowledge to such an extent that he could claim that in his first year as a physician to Pergamum’s gladiators, none of his patients died of the injuries which they sustained in the arena. One of these methods included bathing open wounds with wine-soaked sponges, to prevent infection. He also understood that severe lacerations, caused by swords and knives, could not simply be bandaged; they required surgical intervention, so he developed ways of suturing severed tissues. He writes: Having seen, then, the injuries of one of the gladiators called “horsemen” [most likely an eques, a kind of gladiator who fought on horseback] who sustained a transverse slash in the thigh, going very deep into the frontal and lower sections of the thigh, and observing the lip of the wound, one edge torn upward, the other pulled downwards toward the kneecap, I attempted to proceed from the so-called lateral joint, and bring together little by little the sundered parts of the muscle with stitches (tr. Scarborough).

In order to perform these operations, he used existing surgical instruments (some of these were sophisticated even by modern standards), which in some cases, he modified and improved. He demanded top quality surgical tools, made out of the best available metals. But Galen’s growing fame soon outstripped the narrow confines of his hometown, so in his early 30s, he packed up his medical tools, and relocated to Rome. This move represented, among other things, an opportunity for him to treat the most skilled gladiators in the Roman world, and thereby add to his store of knowledge about human anatomy. And since owners of gladiators had made major monetary investments in these top-shelf gladiators, they no doubt welcomed a physician who could help them to maintain that investment. Other, less well trained physicians relied heavily on the gods to help them cure their patients, but Galen’s increasing expertise in hands-on

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treatments enabled him to surpass their efforts. He became especially proficient in treating head injuries; he understood the connection between the brain and the nervous system. He perfected the process of trepanning, to relieve cranial pressure caused by severe head trauma. Galen claims that it is ridiculous to think that excessive swelling or inflammation automatically occurs after a serious wound is sustained. He states that in a very large number of the gladiators whom he treated, even major wounds often healed without inflammation. He notes that he has often observed among gladiators that severe lacerations to arms or legs healed without inflammation, especially if these injuries had been accompanied by profuse bleeding; the same was true of puncture wounds to the chest. Wrestlers, too, can sometimes suffer serious injuries. Galen refers to a case in which a wrestler who sustained a blow to the chest fell victim to a paroxysm of coughing, which in turn caused him to vomit up about two cups of blood. But after he underwent a phlebotomy, and other measures, the coughing stopped, and health returned. In addition to his medical skills, Galen was a prodigiously productive writer, one of the most prolific authors in the history of Greek and Roman literature. He penned hundreds of books, averaging perhaps one new book every four months. Sources: Johnston, Ian, and G. H. R. Horsley (trs.). Galen. Method of Medicine. Volumes I, II, and III [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2011. Scarborough, John. “Galen and the Gladiators,” Episteme Vol. 5, n. 2, 1971. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAcLuRcfCaE (“Ancient Discoveries, Season 1, Episode 2: Galen, Doctor to the Gladiators”).

Pliny the Younger on chariot racing. The erudite Pliny the Younger (62– 114 ce) was certainly no fan of sports, dangerous or otherwise. In a letter to his friend Calvisius Rufus (a letter characterized by the historian H. A. Harris as displaying “awe-inspiring priggishness”), he celebrates the tranquility of the countryside, compared to the cacophony of the city, and especially the commotion caused by the chariot races. He claims never to have had even the slightest interest in the races, which he views as boringly predictable, a sort of “see-one-you’ve-seen-’em-all” attitude. He is thus very surprised that so many thousands of otherwise rational adults would exhibit such a childish desire to watch the same thing over and over: horses running in a large oval, pulling men standing in chariots. He contends that the racing fans could perhaps be forgiven for this puerile obsession if they actually had any interest in the swiftness of the horses or the expertise of the drivers. He fails to understand the intense passions that the faction colors (Red, White, Blue, Green) seem to arouse, and he goes so far as to suggest that if, somehow, in mid-race the drivers could

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trade shirts (i.e., switch factions extemporaneously), the fans would remain loyal only to the faction, and cheer on drivers and horses that only moments before, they had been vociferously opposing. (Compare the identical dynamic in modern sports, where fans are almost always more loyal to their favorite team than they are to individual players. A once revered player who leaves his team, especially via free agency, is often booed lustily upon his return to his former venue, to compete as a member of the visiting team.) Pliny marvels that the assemblage of racing fans can attach so much importance, so much admiration, to a mere colored tunic—Radice’s clever rendition—“such is the popularity and importance of a worthless shirt, I don’t mean with the crowd, which is worth less than the shirt”—captures Pliny’s stuffy attitude very well. And then he returns to an earlier theme, about what he perceives as the sheer boredom of watching horses running in an ellipse, and his feeling of superiority, knowing that he does not waste his time in such a pointless activity. He smugly notes that he focuses his attention on his literary interests, while the race crowd dissipates theirs on otiosissimae occupationes, the “most trivial pursuits.” Sources: Pliny the Younger, Letters 9.6. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. 1972. Radice, Betty (tr.). Pliny: Letters and Panegyricus. Volume II [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1969.

Pompey the Great’s games. In 55 bce, the Roman general and politician Pompey the Great (full Roman name: Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, 106–48) sponsored lavish entertainments in honor of the dedication of a theater and temple in the center of Rome. The festivities included stage plays, athletic exhibitions, and mock wild beast hunts. Cicero wrote a letter describing the events to his cultured and wealthy friend Marcus Marius, who lived near the city of Pompeii and did not attend. Cicero took a very dim view of spectacles in general, and this one in particular. So he begins his letter by congratulating his friend on having missed the big show, and avoiding that which so many others mindlessly enjoy. He writes that the stage plays were a flop, the actors a disaster, the props disgustingly overdone, all of which were greatly admired by the spectators, but which Marius would have utterly disdained. He notes that the athletic contests likewise would have found no favor with his friend, a man who has nothing but contempt for gladiators. Even Pompey admitted that these contests were a waste of money and effort. As for the wild beast hunts, which spanned five days, with two shows per day: undeniably magnificent. But then Cicero then asks what enjoyment a sophisticated person could derive from watching a feeble little man torn to shreds by a powerful wild animal, or observing a beautiful beast pierced by

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a spear. And even if one has seen these scenes many times, there is a certain repetitiousness about them that makes them predictable and unappealing. On the last day of the shows, elephants were displayed and slaughtered, a sight which greatly impressed the spectators, but provided them with no enjoyment. On the contrary, many believed that the bloodshed was unjustified, that the magnificent creatures should have been spared. Cicero concludes his letter by reminding Marius that he had asked for a description of the shows, to lessen his disappointment at being unable to attend them. Cicero writes to his friend that he would be happy if he had accomplished that very thing: assuring Marius that he did not miss a thing! Sources: Cicero, Letters to His Friends 7.1. Lewis, Naphtali and Meyer Reinhold, Roman Civilization Sourcebook I: The Republic. New York: Harper & Row, 1951. Williams, W. Glynn (tr.). Cicero: The Letters to His Friends. Volume II [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1929.

Probus and Roman sports. The emperor Probus (full Roman name: Marcus Aurelius Probus, reigned 276–282 ce) was concerned primarily with foreign wars during his reign, but he did not neglect the desire of the populace for entertainments. He produced a very impressive wild beast hunt in the Circus Maximus, replete with a specially constructed backdrop. He ordered a cadre of soldiers to venture out into the forests and uproot tall trees; these trees were then placed on a huge wooden platform built on the racetrack. The platform was covered with soil, and the trees were anchored in the soil. The effect was as if a forest were growing in the middle of the Circus. Next came the entry of the creatures to be hunted: 1,000 ostriches, and a like number of stags and boars. After that, an assortment of other beasts entered: deer, ibexes, wild sheep, and various other herbivores. Then the spectators made their entry, and they were permitted to descend upon the artificial forest, and kill whatever animals they wanted. On another day, Probus arranged a show featuring 100 roaring lions, whose bellowing resembled thunder. All of them were dispatched as soon as they appeared on the arena floor, but the slaughter lacked drama or excitement, because the beasts had merely emerged from their dens, not released from cages; caged lions, apparently, were far more aggressive upon release. Many of the lions in this show seemed almost lackadaisical, unwilling to pursue the hunters, and so they were killed with arrows. Probus and his cohorts apparently tried to arouse some fury on the arena floor by letting loose large numbers of Libyan and Syrian leopards, as well as lionesses and bears, but even this aggregation of wild beasts was more impressive for its vastness than for its actions. He also brought out 300 pairs of gladiators, from various nations. Source: Flavius Vopiscus of Syracuse, Life of Probus 19.

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Provocator. Little is known about the gladiators called provocatores. The word literally means “one who calls forward,” or “calls out,” a “challenger.” The term occasionally occurs in a military context; the essayist Aulus Gellius refers to a highly decorated soldier named Lucius Sicinius Dentatus, who acquired several of his war prizes (enemy armor, for example) by calling out, or challenging, an opponent to single combat. Cicero provides the only literary reference to the word in a gladiatorial setting, when, in one of his court speeches, he accuses one of his arch-enemies, Publius Vatinius (named in the Oxford Classical Dictionary as “the best hated man of his time”) of organizing an army of gladiators. Among these gladiatorial stalwarts, says Cicero, were Samnites (Samnites) and provocatores. This brief passage implies that provocatores may have been analogous to retiarii, lightly-armed gladiators who employed a strategy of baiting and taunting slower, bulkier opponents. It may also be possible that retiarii as a gladiatorial classification evolved from provocatores, since the former term does not appear in a gladiatorial context until the century after Cicero. In any event, we have a brief, four-line inscription, CIL 6.10183, which commemorates a provocator by the name of Anicetus. The abbreviation D M (dis manibus, “to the underworld gods”) in the first line indicates that the inscription is funerary. Appearing in the second line, after the name Anicetus, is the unusual abbreviation sp. Some historians have suggested that it stands for the word spatarius, especially because in another inscription honoring a provocator, the abbreviation spat. occurs. Spatarius is a rare word in Latin; when it does makes its way into the literature, it seems to mean something like “armed with a spatha,” which was a short, broad-bladed sword. If accurate, that definition would clearly fit the gladiatorial context. Interestingly, the final lines indicate that the monument was erected by the gladiator’s doctor, “trainer,” Aelius Marcion. Sources: Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 2.11. Cicero, On Behalf of Sestius, 134. CIL 6.10183.

Publicizing a gladiatorial show. Upcoming gladiatorial shows were generally publicized by means of announcements painted on the walls of public buildings. These announcements typically contained information about the sponsor of the show; the date(s) of the matches; the number of pairs of gladiators that would fight; occasionally, the names of some of the gladiators; and other attractions. These other attractions could consist of a wild beast hunt (venatio); awnings or canopies (vela) unfurled over the seating areas, to protect spectators from the heat of the sun; other athletes (athletae) or athletic performances, which might include boxing or wrestling matches; the distribution of gifts or door prizes (sparsiones) to spectators. Most of the surviving announcements have been discovered on the walls

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of buildings in Pompeii. Perhaps the most striking of these is CIL 4.3884, which publicizes an upcoming show to be sponsored by a certain D(ecimus) Lucretius Satrius Valens; his first name appears in abbreviated form, D.; his second name is written in full, and the letters are all enormous, far larger than any of the other information in the announcement. That he was a flamen Neronis Caesaris—“priest of [the emperor] Nero Caesar”—might account for the outsized letters of the first part of his name. He must have been an influential member of the community, and someone who was well known, possibly adding a touch of credibility to the games he sponsored. Contained within the outsized letter “C” of Lucretius’ name is the phrase Scr Celer; the same combination of letters also occurs to the right of Lucretius’ name, where, however, the name Aemilius is added. Scr is probably the abbreviation for the Latin word scripsit, meaning “(he) wrote.” So it follows that Aemilius Celer may be the name of the gladiatorial graffiti artist who created the notice, and if so, this would be very unusual; ancient mural artists’ names seldom appear on their productions. Another oddity: the enigmatic phrase sing ad luna. The Oxford Latin Dictionary indicates that the phrase ad lunam (the “m” is missing in the notice) means “by moonlight”; the sing could be short for some form of singuli, meaning “separate” or “alone.” Put it all together, and the phrase must mean something like “alone by the moonlight.” (The historians Lewis and Reinhold suggest a translation of “all alone in the moonlight.”) Would this mean, then, that Aemilius Celer, and other such artists, had to do their work surreptitiously, under the cover of darkness, with only the light of the moon providing any illumination? It seems as if the creation of such notices would not have been illegal; if it were otherwise, Aemilius Celer certainly would not have signed his name to the job. The announcement proclaims to potential spectators that 30 pairs of gladiators will be fighting, including 20 exhibited by the flamen, and 10 more by his son, also named Satrius Valens. Prospective viewers are also informed that the bouts will occur on April 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12, and that awnings (vela, canopies covering the seating areas and shading the crowd from the sun) and a legitima venatio can be expected. Venatio refers to a mock beast hunt, but the qualifying adjective legitima is odd; its literal meaning is “lawful.” Apparently in this context, it means something like “usual,” or “regular,” as if the spectators would expect to see a venatio in conjunction with gladiatorial bouts. But just to be on the safe side, Valens wanted to assure them that the “usual hunt” would actually occur. Another announcement of an upcoming Pompeian show, this one to be sponsored by a certain Cnaeus Alleus Nigidus Maius, also (like Valens) a flamen of the emperor, proclaims that the show will coincide with the dedication of an altar. In addition to the gladiatorial bouts, spectators can expect to see

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a wild beast hunt (venatio), and they can look forward to being shielded from the sun’s rays by canopies (vela) unfurled over the seating areas. The unusual phrase sine ulla dilatione also appears in this announcement; literally translated, it means “without any postponement.” The circumstances that might occasion a postponement are not clear. Bad weather perhaps, or some logistical problem with the facilities or the performers. But in any event, Nigidus was apparently attempting to reassure potential spectators that the show would go on, no matter what.

Publius Vatinius as munerarius. Publius Vatinius was a reckless and generally unscrupulous first century bce politician, the “best-hated man of his time” (Oxford Classical Dictionary). In 59, he held the office of tribune, and, as a political ally of Julius Caesar, sponsored a number of legislative initiatives friendly to Caesar. He locked horns with Cicero in a celebrated trial in 56, in which the ex-tribune Publius Sestius was accused of political corruption. Cicero was one of Sestius’ defense attorneys. Vatinius testified against Sestius, and it was in this context that Cicero delivered some very harsh words directed against Vatinius, especially with regard to Vatinius’ activities as a sponsor of gladiatorial shows. A few years before, in 63, Cicero had introduced a bill (subsequently passed into law) which forbade anyone to put on a gladiatorial show within two years of becoming a candidate for political office. And yet, Cicero argued (in a separate prosecution),Vatinius had blatantly violated that law by promoting a show in the very year (56) that he was a candidate for the office of praetor. In the Sestius case, Cicero again references Vatinius’ violation of that law, but, ironically, he also expresses admiration for Vatinius’ unspeakable audacity in so doing. How can the man get away with it? Certainly not through personal charm (he has none), nor influential friends (he has none), nor wealth (he has none of that, either). Cicero suggests that Vatinius acquired his boldness in skirting the law by collecting a large band of gladiators, and winning the support of the populace by exhibiting these gladiators in a magnificent show. He asserts that Vatinius himself appeared in the arena, the most handsome one of them all. (Court officials and spectators would have appreciated the sarcastic edginess of that remark; Vatinius was by all accounts an extremely unattractive man.) If Vatinius broke the law in order to please the people with the production of a gladiatorial show, his actions still would not have merited approval. But worse yet, Cicero contends, the man did not even recruit the best gladiatorial candidates, but rather untrained prison inmates, to whom he gave gladiatorial names and classifications. And as for Vatinius’ explanation for this chicanery? He responds by saying that he was not exhibiting real gladiators,

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but only beast-fighters, and that therefore, the Ciceronian law on the topic does not apply. Furthermore, he has only one true gladiator on display, paid for legally by the money which he would have spent on shows had he been elected aedile a couple years earlier. Cicero, not surprisingly, laughs off these feeble explanations, but nonetheless seems content not to press the issue, thus giving Vatinius a false sense of security, and lessening the possibility that he might do violence to the court if he were prosecuted for breaking the law. The denouement: Vatinius’ testimony apparently was not persuasive, nor were the other prosecutorial arguments, as Sestius was acquitted. Ironically, just two years after the Sestius case had been decided, Cicero successfully defended Vatinius against a bribery accusation. Sources: Cicero, Against Vatinius 37. Gardner, R. (tr.). Cicero, The Speeches: Pro Sestio and In Vatinium. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1958. Oxford Classical Dictionary, s.vv. Sestius; Vatinius.

Race horses in inscriptions. According to the first century ce natural historian Pliny the Elder, horses could live for up to 50 years. He describes the best kind of horses for use in the cavalry, but he also notes that a different kind of equine physique is necessary for race horses (although he does not specify the nature of the differences). He also states that while horses as young as two years of age are serviceable in many ways, race horses must be at least five years old. Race horses, like the charioteers who rode behind them, came from many parts of the Roman world, including Africa, Spain, Gaul (modern France), and Greece, as well as Italy. Those that had to be transported from some distance came by sea, in specially constructed ships called hippagines (singular hippago). The social historian J. P. V. D. Balsdon describes a mosaic found in Tunisia (in north Africa) which depicts three named horses (Ferox, Icarus, and Cupido) riding in a hippago bound for Italy from Africa. (Ship construction was highly specialized; the essayist Aulus Gellius identifies more than 25 kinds of boats and ships, including hippagines.) Inscriptional evidence indicates that, in a four-horse yoking arrangement (quadriga, by far the most commonly used), the right yoke horse was regarded as the most important of the four. When a charioteer won a race, the right yoke horse was also often credited with a win. The honorary terms equus centenarius and equus ducenarius were conferred on yoke horses that had won 100 and 200 races, respectively. The historian H. A. Harris points out that the celebrated charioteer Appuleius Diocles won 152 times with his African horse Pompeianus, apparently a record number of wins with, and for, an African. Harris speculates that perhaps Diocles highlighted this record

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in his honorary inscription because African horses may have been more difficult to drive than horses from other areas. He also observes that, whereas the Greeks believed that mares made better race horses, the Romans felt that stallions were preferable. Two lengthy inscriptions contain the names of 195 yoke horses used by two different charioteers, whose names are unfortunately not preserved. The longer of these. CIL 6.10056, provides the name of the horse, its color, in some cases its sire, and the number of victories credited to it. The horse names seem to be listed randomly in the text of the inscription; a chronological order may be indicated but this is not explicitly recorded in the text. English translations of the names, where possible, appear in parentheses after the Latin names. All of the 123 horses listed came from either Africa (91 of them) or Spain (32). Neither of the two inscriptions provides any information that would enable us to ascertain its date. Name (followed by the translation, if any) African horses: 1. Adsertor (Defender) 2. Adsertor (Defender) 3. Adsertor (Defender) 4. Aegyptus (Egypt) 5. Arista 6. Armatus (Armed) 7. Aunara 8. Barbarus (Wild) 9. Barbarus (Wild) 10. Bubalus (Gazelle) 11. Callidromus (Beautiful Runner) 12. Callinicus (Beautiful Winner) 13. Centaurus (Centaur) 14. Cirratus (Curly) 15. Cirratus (Curly) 16. Cotynus 17. Cotynus 18. Cotynus 19. Cupido (Cupid) 20. Delicatus (Charming) 21. Delicatus (Charming) 22. Derector 23. Draucus 24. Eminens (Outstanding)

Color

Number of victories

russet russet black black brown black brown brown brown russet russet brown brown russet russet brown brown brown russet brown russet brown russet brown

12 1 1 4 5 1 1 4 1 1 1 7 3 2 2 30 3 1 2 15 2 3 1 28

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Name (followed by the translation, if any)

Color

25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65.

russet tan not stated black brown russet brown not stated brown russet russet brown russet russet black brown brown not stated brown russet brown brown brown black black not stated russet black, brown russet russet brown not stated not extant black russet russet black russet black black brown

Exsoriens (Springing Up) Fastidiosus (Haughty) Faustus (Lucky) Felicissimus (Happiest) Felix (Happy) Floridus (Flowery) Floridus (Flowery) Fruendus Frugifer (Profitable) Gemmula (Little Jewel) Gentilis (Pagan) Hederatus (Ivy Crowned) Hilarus (Cheery) Hilarus (Cheery) Indus (Indian) Iuvenis (Youngster) Latro (Thief) Leo (Lion) Liber (Bold) Licentiosus (Licentious) Lucidus (Shiny) Lucidus (Shiny) Lucidus (Shiny) Lybius Maurus (Moorish) Murinus (Mousey) Murra (Myrrh) Murra (Myrrh) Nitidus (Bright) Nitidus (Bright) Oceanus (Ocean) Olympus P…[remainder not extant] Passerinus (Little Sparrow) Patronus (Patron) Peculiaris (Extraordinary) Petulans (Impudent) Polynicenus (Many Wins) Pompeianus Pompeianus Pompeianus

Number of victories 2 3 128 1 7 4 2 1 1 7 2 1 4 1 116 1 1 58 1 11 1 1 1 1 10 1 21 1 8 6 6 152 35 1 1 4 2 1 16 3 1

Race horses in inscriptions Name (followed by the translation, if any) 66. Pontifex (Bridge-Builder) 67. Praesidium (Fortress) 68. Pugio (Dagger) 69. Pugio (Dagger) 70. Purpurio 71. Raptor (Thief) 72. Romanus (Roman) 73. Romulus 74. Saeclarus (Pagan) 75. Sanctus (Sacred) 76. Signifer (Standard Bearer) 77. Superbus (Haughty) 78. Superbus (Haughty) 79. Tiber 80. Tyrrhenus (Tyrrhenian) 81. Tyrrhenus (Tyrrhenian) 82. Valentinus (Strong) 83. Valentinus (Strong) 84. Valentinus (Strong) 85. Valentinus (Strong) 86. Vastator (Destroyer) 87. Victor (Winner) 88. Victor (Winner) 89. Virilis (Brave) 90. Virilis (Brave) 91. Virilis (Brave) Spanish horses: 92. Acceptor (Hawk) 93. Acereus 94. Achilles 95. Amor (Love) 96. Callinicus (Beautiful Winner) 97. Celtiberus 98. Chrysippus (Golden Horse) 99. Decoratus (Handsome) 100. Domitius 101. Garrulus (Whinnying) 102. Gelo 103. Inclytus (Famous) 104. Ingenuus (Noble) 105. Latinus

Color brown brown brown brown black russet russet brown brown russet russet (?) brown brown russet tan tan black black black black black russet russet russet russet russet brown brown not stated white white white russet russet black, white black, white russet russet brown black, white

137

Number of victories 11 15 3 1 2 1 1 1 6 1 16 3 1 2 3 1 5 4 1 1 2 2 1 23 1 1 1 20 21 10 1 17 1 1 1 1 1 1 38 4

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Name (followed by the translation, if any) 106. Licentia (Bold) 107. Lupercus 108. Marcus 109. Murinus (Mousey) 110. Mysticus (Mystic) 111. Nicolaus 112. Nobilis (Noble) 113. Noricus 114. Notatus (Branded) 115. Palladius 116. Palmatus (Palmlike) 117. Paratus (Ready) 118. Perdix (Partridge) 119. Phaedrus 120. Reburrus (Bristling) 121. Regalis (Kingly) 122. Romula 123. Siricus

Color black black, white not stated dark, spotted (?) russet white brown russet brown brown gray white russet black not stated brown russet russet

Number of victories 1 1 56 3 4 1 1 1 1 1 1 5 1 6 25 1 2 7

A similar list, CIL 6.10053, preserves the names of 72 horses. In the list that follows, the place of breeding appears instead of the animal’s color. Name (followed by the translation, if any) 1. Abascantus 2. Advolans (Flyer) 3. Aegyptus (Egypt) 4. Aether (Bright Air) 5. Ajax 6. Alcimus 7. Andraemo 8. Andraemo 9. Aquila (Eagle) 10. Aquila (Eagle) 11. Aquilinus (Eagle-like) 12. Aracinthus 13. Aranius (Spider) 14. Arcas 15. Argus 16. Arion 17. Aster (Star) 18. B…[remainder not extant]

Origin Thessaly Africa not extant Africa Africa not stated Africa Africa not extant not extant Africa not extant Africa Aetolia uncertain Africa not extant not extant

Number of victories 20 1 1 30 22 6 8 1 not extant not extant 1 not extant 1 16 30 1 not extant not extant

Race horses in inscriptions Name (followed by the translation, if any) 19. Baeticus 20. Ballista (Missile) 21. Ballista (Missile) 22. Barbatus (Bearded) 23. Cali…[remainder not extant] 24. Callidromus (Beautiful Runner) 25. Callidromus (Beautiful Runner) 26. Camm…[remainder not extant] 27. Candidus (Shining) 28. Cirratus (Curly) 29. Cotynus 30. Cutta 31. Daedalus 32. Danaus 33. Delicatus (Charming) 34. Draucus 35. Dromo (Runner) 36. Eutonus 37. Eutonus 38. Exactus (Precise) 39. Excellens (Excellent) 40. Gaetulus 41. Glaphyrus 42. Helius 43. Helius 44. Hilarus (Cheery) 45. Hilarus (Cheery) 46. Hilarus (Cheery) 47. Hirpinus 48. Ingenuus (Noble) 49. Innoce 50. Latinus 51. Lucinus (Light) 52. Lupus (Wolf) 53. Lupus (Wolf) 54. Lupus (Wolf) 55. Maculosus (Spotted) 56. Melissa 57. Memnon 58. Menippus 59. Oss…[remainder not extant]

Origin Africa Africa Africa Africa not extant Cyrene not extant Africa Africa Africa Africa Africa Africa not extant Mauritania Africa Spain Africa Africa Mauritania not extant Africa uncertain Africa not extant Africa Spain not extant uncertain uncertain Africa not extant Africa Spain Africa Africa Africa Africa Laconia (Greece) not stated not extant

139

Number of victories 6 13 8 1 not extant 1 not extant 6 1 1 1 2 6 not extant 1 1 1 4 1 1 not extant 6 10 1 not extant 1 1 not extant 2 28 28 not extant 1 22 9 1 1 1 14 10 not extant

140

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Name (followed by the translation, if any) 60. Palmatus (Palm-like) 61. Palumbis (Dove) 62. Paratus (Ready) 63. Pardus (Panther) 64. Passer (Sparrow) 65. Passer (Sparrow) 66. Peculiaris (Extraordinary) 67. Pegasus 68. Pegasus 69. Pistus 70. Pugio (Dagger) 71. Pugio (Dagger) 72. Pyrallis 73. Rapax (Plundering) 74. Romanus (Roman) 75. Romulus 76. Romulus 77. Romulus 78. Sagitta (Arrow) 79. Sica (Dagger) 80. Silvanus 81. Silvanus 82. Spiculus (Dart) 83. Thelus 84. Victor (Winner) 85. Victor (Winner) 86. Zmaragdus (Emerald)

Origin Africa Africa Africa Africa Thessaly Africa not extant Africa Africa Cyrene Africa Africa Africa Africa Gaul Africa Africa Laconia Africa Africa Africa not extant Gaul Africa Africa not extant Africa

Number of victories 2 9 1 4 2 1 not extant 1 1 1 2 1 4 5 1 9 9 5 18 1 1 not extant 9 1 32 not extant 1

The following horses are identified as equi centenarii, horses which had won 100 or more races: Ballista (Missile) Callidromus (Beautiful Runner) Hilarus (Cheery) Spiculus (Dart)

Africa Africa Africa not extant

Sources: Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 10.25. Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969. CIL 6.10053. CIL 6.10056. Harris, H. A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Matz, David. Greek and Roman Sport. A Dictionary of Athletes and Events from the Eighth Century B.C. to the Third Century A. D. Jefferson, North Carolina, and London: McFarland, 1991. Pliny the Elder, Natural History 8.162.

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Race horses in Plutarch. The learned and erudite Plutarch, best known for his paired biographies of famous Greeks and Romans, also wrote a series of essays about a wide variety of topics, including one titled The Roman Questions. In this essay, he posed a series of 113 questions about various aspects of Roman life and culture, and then attempted to answer them. Question 97 in the series: “Why is it that after the chariot-race on the Ides of December the right-hand trace horse of the winning team is sacrificed to Mars, and then someone cuts off its tail … while [others] … fight for its head?” (tr. Babbitt). Plutarch was curious about the beginnings of this grisly custom, and the reasons for it. He speculated that perhaps its origin could be traced all the way back to the Trojan War, where, as legend has it, the Greeks did not capture the city of Troy in a military assault, but rather by means of a trick: the famous Wooden Horse, in whose hollow body a small band of Greek soldiers was concealed. When the Trojans unwisely pulled the horse into the city, the soldiers, under the cover of darkness, were able to creep out of its belly and open the city gates. The entire Greek army poured in, and easily vanquished the sleeping Trojan soldiers. Since the Romans believed themselves to be the descendants of the Trojans, a horse had to be punished each year, in expiation for the “crime” of the Wooden Horse. Or, Plutarch thought, since race horses were by nature high-strung, powerful, warlike animals, it seemed appropriate to sacrifice one of them, a winner, to the god Mars. As the god of war, Mars would have been particularly appreciative of such a gesture. Or a third possibility: a horse obviously has to be fast to win a race, but foot speed on the battlefield is no advantage if it enables a soldier to flee from the fight. Plutarch theorized that perhaps the killing of a fast horse was used to symbolically demonstrate that running speed can sometimes be a danger, not a virtue. Source: Frank Cole Babbitt (tr.). Plutarch’s Moralia. Volume II [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1936.

Res Gestae of Augustus. Near the end of his life, in 14 ce, the aging emperor Augustus prepared a remarkable document, an autobiographical account of his long reign which had begun over 40 years earlier. This document, called the Res Gestae Divi Augusti, Accomplishments of Deified Augustus, contains information about the honors which he received from the Roman Senate and the people, the donations which he made to the public, including the dangerous games and shows he financed, and finally, his actions during times of war and peace. According to Frederick W. Shipley, the Res Gestae exhibits “a style of studied simplicity, and almost telegraphic brevity, with not a word

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too many or a word too few, and … an objectivity worthy of the commentaries of his adopted father [Julius Caesar].” The middle portions of the autobiography detail the emperor’s sponsorship of shows and games. He states that he put on eight gladiatorial shows over the course of about 35 years (from 29 bce to 6 ce), three times in his own name, and five times in the name of his sons or grandsons; in these eight shows, some 10,000 gladiators appeared. In addition, he produced under his own name chariot races four times, and 23 times in the name of various office-holders. On 26 occasions, he exhibited wild beast hunts, sometimes in the circus, other times in the amphitheater, and still other times in the Roman Forum. In the course of these events, about 3,500 animals were killed. Augustus did not neglect the popularity of a mock naval battle. He even had a special venue constructed for the purpose, a man-made lake which measured 1,800 feet long and 1,200 feet wide. Then, the ensuing show featured 30 ships—a combination of triremes and biremes, which were large battleships—as well as many smaller boats. About 3,000 fighters, not counting the oarsmen, participated. Augustus’ Res Gestae (still a term used in law to refer to the admissibility into evidence of acts and statements incidental to a case) was displayed in many places throughout the Roman Empire, usually in the form of inscriptions in temples. Three copies still survive, including the most well-preserved version, in Ancyra, in Turkey. The title later given to it, the Monumentum Ancyranum, is synonymous with Res Gestae Divi Augusti. Source: Shipley, Frederick W. (tr.). Res Gestae Divi Augusti [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1924.

Retiarius (pl. retiarii). The retiarii (literally, “net men”) are the most fully documented of all classes of gladiators, and also the most uniquely equipped. Therefore, confusing them with any other gladiatorial classification is easily avoided. The retiarii were the only gladiators who fought without any protection for the head. This is implied by the biographer Suetonius, who states that the emperor Claudius gave orders that any gladiator who stumbled at a show should be killed, especially retiarii, so that he could see their faces when they expired. The satirical poet Juvenal describes the net fighter Gracchus, who scorns the sword and shield used by a murmillo (another kind of gladiator, more heavily armed than a retiarius), and who does not wear a bulky helmet covering his face. Instead, he carries a trident in one hand, and the characteristic fishing net in the other (a weapon which he will fling at his opponent, hopefully entangling his arms and legs in it). And if he tosses the net and misses, he will likely have to flee the length and breadth of the arena, because retiarii were usually matched against opponents equipped with heavy offen-

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sive weapons, and protected by armor. This embarrassing, perhaps cowardly, act of running away is doubly disgraceful because the spectators could clearly see the face of a retiarius. Hence, net fighters were sometimes viewed as the least desirable category of gladiator, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the strategy that they had to employ: throwing the net, and then fleeing in case of an errant throw. This perhaps explains Claudius’ apparent scorn for them. Juvenal implies that the lowly reputation accorded to them also transfers to their opponents; a gladiator commanded to fight against a retiarius has suffered a disgrace heavier than any physical wound. The retiarii wore a short tunic of some sort; Juvenal, writing of the same Gracchus in a different satire, calls him tunicatus, “dressed in a tunic.” Suetonius also uses the term tunicatus as a kind of epithet for net fighters. The depiction of retiarii on monuments and tombstones illustrates the remainder of their costuming: leg bandages; a wide cummerbund; and a sleeve on the left arm, to which was appended a leather or metal shoulder pad to take the place of a shield. This shoulder padding was rather prominent and was referenced by the word galerus, which literally means “helmet,” but in the gladiatorial context, it is apparently viewed as a kind of helmet for the shoulder. The retiarii carried several offensive weapons; a net, which gave rise to their title “net fighter,” was one of these weapons. Skillful wielding of the net was mandatory; failure to entangle the arms or legs of his opponent could have disastrous, or at least, embarrassing consequences for the retiarius. An errant toss might well deprive the retiarius of his primary offensive weapon, thus requiring him to flee ignominiously from his opponent. The throwing of a net as an offensive weapon, combined with the use of a trident, has historical precedents. The first century bce historian Diodorus Siculus describes a battle between the Tyrians and the Macedonians (in 332 bce), in which the Tyrians used tridents and fishing nets to overcome their adversaries. When the Macedonians began threatening to breach their city walls, by means of assault towers, Tyrian engineers fabricated huge, barbed tridents; when their opponents closed in on the walls, the Tyrians thrust their tridents at them. The barbs caused the tridents to become lodged in the attackers’ shields, and since ropes were also attached to the tridents, the Tyrians then reeled in the ropes. The Macedonian soldiers were thus faced with the unhappy choice of either letting go of their shields and exposing themselves to spears and arrows, or hanging on to the shields, being yanked away from their towers, and left dangling in the air. Elsewhere, Macedonian soldiers attempting to advance on the ground were met with fishnetwielding Tyrians, who threw their nets over the attackers, rendering their hands helpless, and thus easily overcoming them. The connection between fishing gear and the equipment of the retiarii

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is an obvious one, and even resulted in some gladiatorial “trash-talking.” The first century ce orator Quintilian records a taunt, current in his day, hurled by a retiarius at a murmillo (a kind of gladiator who wore a helmet bearing a fish logo): “I’m not after you. It’s your fish I want! Why are you running away?” There is no clear statement in the ancient sources which defines the fighting techniques of the retiarius, although Balsdon’s comment seems as if it might be close to the truth: “He [a retiarius] was a dead man, once he was cornered; his object was to provoke, irritate, and exhaust the heavily-armored opponent against whom he fought, baiting him to lumber after him across the arena….” The satirist Juvenal implies that retiarii were held in greater contempt than all of the gladiatorial classifications because they were bare-headed (and hence, their identities were easily recognizable), and lightly armed. However, all gladiators were social outcasts; one could make the counterargument that the retiarii were the least despised because of the considerable dexterity required to wield the net successfully, and the agility necessary to avoid or parry the sword thrusts of their heavily-armed opponents. Spectators who wanted to view a skillful performance (rather than a choreographed imitation) would have appreciated that. Sources: Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill 1969. Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 17. Juvenal, Satire 8. Quintilian, Institutes of Oratory 6.3. Suetonius, Life of Claudius 34.

(A) Riot in the amphitheater: 59 ce. The Roman amphitheater located in Pompeii, in south central Italy, was constructed in the early first century bce, and it had the distinction of the being the first structure of its kind to be built out of stone. Construction costs were covered by two local officials (called duovirs); the dedicatory plaque survives: “C[aius] Quinctius, son of Caius, and M[arcus] Porcius, son of Marcus, duoviri and quinquennales of the colony, as a duty of office, with their own money, oversaw the building of the spectacula (a word apparently used for such structures prior to the introduction of the term amphitheatrum), and for the colonists they donated the place forever” (tr. Welch, with parenthetical commentary added by the author). The seating areas could accommodate perhaps 10,000. Gladiatorial shows could evoke strong emotions in the spectators. At a show in 59 ce, sponsored by a Pompeian official named Livineius Regulus, the crowd was apparently composed primarily of Pompeians, and a large contingent of fight fans from the nearby town of Nuceria. The Pompeians had their favorite gladiators, as did the Nucerians. There was mutual taunting and trash talking, verbal insults hurled back and forth between citizens of the two places, which the historian Tacitus, with more than just a touch of

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condescension, characterized as “typical of the petulance of country towns” (tr. Jackson). The dispute escalated from words, to stone throwing, and ultimately, to armed conflict. Since the Pompeians were, in effect, the home crowd, they outnumbered their Nucerian adversaries, with predictable results. Many Nucerians were seriously injured and transported to Rome for medical treatment; others were not as lucky. An official investigation commenced. The emperor Nero passed the buck to the Roman senate, which in turn sent it on to the consuls. They refused to adjudicate the matter, so it remained up to the senate to settle it. The senate came down heavily on the Pompeians. They were forbidden for ten years to hold any gladiatorial shows in their amphitheater. The sponsor of the games which occasioned the riot, Livineius, and his close associates, received sentences of exile. There is some undocumented speculation that that the ten-year suspension of gladiatorial activities was not enforced. Tacitus records that Pompeii suffered a violent and destructive earthquake a few years later, in 62, and that much of the city was leveled. Some historians theorize that the amphitheater was repaired, and that gladiatorial combats resumed. Perhaps Pompeii had been punished enough. The contention that the Pompeians soundly thrashed their Nucerian guests in the riot is supported by an inscribed plaque (CIL 4.1293) found on the outside wall of a shrine in Pompeii. Depicted on the plaque is the figure of a helmeted man, most likely a gladiator. He is armed, and equipped with a scutum (an oblong shield). In his right hand, he holds a palm of victory. Underneath the armed man is a short message: “For the Campanians (i.e., Pompeians): complete victory. For the Nucerians: destruction.” (Or, to update the message: “Pompeians, one. Nucerians, nothing.”) Sources: CIL 4.1293. Jackson, John (tr.). Tacitus. The Annals. Volume IV. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1937. Tacitus, Annals 14.17. Welch, Katherine E. The Roman Amphitheater from its Origins to the Colosseum. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Amphitheater_of_Pompeii ; http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_ romana/gladiators/pompeii.html

Scipio’s funeral games, as described by Silius Italicus. [Note: Scipio Africanus, the vanquisher of the Carthaginian general Hannibal in the Battle of Zama (in northern Africa, in 202 bce, which brought the Second Punic war to an end) returned to Spain afterwards, to organize and celebrate funeral games in honor of his father, and uncle, and the Roman leaders killed in the war. The historian Silius Italicus is our main source of information about these games, and he frames his account in the manner of Homer’s description of the funeral games for Patroclus in Book 23 of the Iliad.]

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When he arrived in Spain, Scipio assembled the Roman soldiers stationed there, as well as the native inhabitants, and made a speech in which he announced his intention of sponsoring the games. He proclaimed that there would be competitions in the following events: a four-horse chariot race; a foot race; a sword fight; a javelin throw. He assured his listeners that all participants would receive a prize, from among the spoils taken from the Carthaginians at the conclusion of the war. When the day of the games dawned, and a huge crowd gathered, Scipio commenced the proceedings with a funeral procession, and the appropriate funeral rites, in honor of the deceased soldiers. After those formalities had been observed, he made his way to the track, to preside over the first event, a chariot race. The spectators had already assembled; Silius writes that they “surged to and fro with a noise like the sound of the sea and with a fury of partisanship” (tr. Duff). Apparently, many in the crowd already had a favored driver. There were four to choose from: Cyrnus, Hiberus, Durius, and Atlas. Their prime horses were, respectively, Lampon, Panchates, Pelorus, and Caucasus. Finally, what they had all been eagerly awaiting: the start of the race. The gates opened, and the horses and chariots thundered on to the track. The crowd noise reached new decibel levels, as all the spectators cheered on the drivers and the horses; some even appeared to be emulating the moves of the drivers, if body language were any guide. The ground shook from the roar of the crowd, as if the fans had gone completely out of their minds with anticipation and excitement. The dust cloud formed from all those hooves and wheels became so thick that it became difficult to see the horses and the drivers. Some spectators were partial to a particular charioteer or team of horses because of their land of origin; others cheered for a “rookie” horse, while still others backed a horse that had raced many times. In the early going, Lampon, from Gallacia, led his team to a quick lead. His long strides and innate speed enabled him to pull the chariot faster than the wind. Many of his fans were overjoyed to see it; with such a dominant start, Lampon, and his driver Cyrnus, seemed certain to win the race. [Perhaps Cyrnus was attempting to employ the occupavit et vicit strategy: take the lead at the beginning, and hold it throughout.] But others were not so optimistic. They feared that Lampon might be expending all his energy at the beginning of the race, with none left in reserve for the end. But Cyrnus either could not hear their pleas, or chose not to. No decrease in speed was forthcoming, no slacking. He failed to take into account that there was still much of the race to be run. But Panchates, and his driver Hiberus, were no slouches. They followed close upon the wheels of the leader. Panchates could not boast of a racer’s build and appearance—his length of stride could not match Lampon’s, and

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he was not handsome to look at—but he was a fierce, high-spirited competitor, and he kept the pace, scorning the reins. Following the two leaders, and in a virtual tie for third place, were Pelorus and Caucasus. The latter recoiled from coddling and caressing. He was so high-strung, so competitive, that he sometimes bit down so hard on the bridle’s mouthpiece that he drew blood. Pelorus was more tractable, less aggressive. He ran an efficient race, never wasting energy on unnecessary lane changing. He knew how to take the turns, keeping the inside wheel as close as possible to the turning post. When the four of them reached the halfway point of the race, and apparently feeling a renewed sense of urgency, they all increased their speed. Panchates, especially, redoubled his efforts to overtake the leader, Lampon. He followed so closely behind Lampon’s chariot that he rear-ended it from time to time, his feet banging into the back of his rival’s rig as they sped down the track. Panchates’ driver, Hiberus, could see that the team in front of him was beginning to lose the edge that their fast start had conferred on them; they were tiring. He immediately leaned over the backs of his own horses, plying the whip while at the same time encouraging them (and perhaps himself), yelling that they could do it, they could take the lead. Lampon was out of breath. He lacked the stamina to maintain his early pace. Panchates and his yoke mates responded with renewed energy. Cyrnus (the driver of the chariot in the lead) was aware of the surge taking place behind him, and attempted to counter it by swerving in front of his challenger. When that strategy failed, and Panchates’ team drew even, Cyrnus tried to maintain the same pace, unsuccessfully, as it turned out: Panchates and his three teammates snatched the lead away, much to the delight of many of the spectators. Meanwhile, the last two charioteers, Atlas and Durius, were still in contention for third place. Each man reached into his bag of tricks, hoping to pull out an effective ploy to take over third. One tried to pass on the left; the other tried to pass on the right. Neither strategy worked. The youthful, confident Durius finally decided on a more aggressive approach. He steered his horses directly into the path of his rival, causing the latter’s chariot to teeter out of control. Atlas, older and not as powerful as Durius, was furious; he screamed at the younger man, calling him insane. He accused Durius of trying to kill him, and his horses with him. But just at that time, his chariot became completely upended, and Atlas was hurled head over heels onto the track. Durius, and his yoke horse Pelorus, shot well ahead of Atlas’ broken, crumpled chariot, and soon overtook the erstwhile leader, Cyrnus. Cyrnus’ horses, tired and lagging because they had expended so much energy at the start of the race, were no match for Durius’ team, and the spectators who favored Durius responded accordingly when they saw him surge into second place.

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But Durius and Pelorus were not satisfied with running second. They now set their sights on the leader, Hiberus, and his powerful yoke horse, Panchates. In a flash, Pelorus was literally breathing down the back of Hiberus, who could feel the animal’s hot breath, and the foam bubbling up out of his mouth. Durius, too, felt the advantage edging his way. He brandished his whip, as he encouraged his team to even greater speed. The horses responded, pulling the chariot into a tie with Hiberus. Durius cried out to Pelorus, urging him on to even greater speed. And when the animal redoubled its efforts, and the chariot surged forward, Darius made a fatal mistake. Thinking, perhaps, that victory was within reach, he dropped his whip, and with it, his control over the horses. He tried to use the reins as a whip, but they proved to be a poor, ineffective substitute. Darius cursed himself, loudly complaining to heaven about his misfortune. Meanwhile, Panchates, and his charioteer Hiberus, knew that they had won. They thundered to the finish line, and took the first prize. Loud cheers emanated from the spectators. Next came the time to distribute the prizes. Scipio presided over this ceremony. All four of the charioteers received identical engraved battle-axes, fashioned of silver. Additional prizes were also awarded, depending on the order of finish. The winner, Hiberus, received a swift and sturdy horse, donated by a local king. The second place finisher, Darius, was awarded two golden cups, war booty seized from the Carthaginians. The man who came in third, Cyrnus, was given the pelt of a lion, as well as a crested Carthaginian helmet. Finally, Scipio called forth Atlas. Although the old man had fallen to the ground when he crashed his chariot, he was still deemed worthy of a prize: a strong young man as his personal servant, and also a helmet. A foot race was next on the day’s agenda. Scipio announced the prizes. The winner would receive a helmet once belonging to the Carthaginian general Hasdrubal. The second place finisher would be awarded a sword taken from a Carthaginian general after a battle. The runner who finished third would walk off with a bull. Any runner who failed to place in the top three would get two javelins, courtesy of the Spanish mines. Two young men, Tartessus and Hesperus, immediately stepped forward, and after them, Baeticus. Baeticus was from the Spanish town of Corduba, whose citizens had generously supported his athletic endeavors. The redhaired Eurytus also entered the competition; he enjoyed much fan support, including his parents, who were in attendance. The field of seven racers was rounded out by Lamus, Sicoris, and Theron. They assembled on the starting line, leaning forward, hearts pounding, waiting for the sound of the trumpet. When the trumpet blared, the young men were off, “[springing] forward through the air swifter than arrows launched from the string” (tr. Duff). The fans roared, shouting out the names

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of their favorites. The runners were evenly matched, each one as fast as the others. All seven were worthy of victory. At the halfway point, Eurytus took the lead, not by a great margin, but clearly, there was daylight between him and his closest rival. Right behind him was Hesperus, who was just as swift-footed. Eurytus was comfortable as the leader; Hesperus was hopeful that he would eventually wrest the lead from Eurytus. Both of them raised their effort levels, and they flashed over the course even faster. Meanwhile, Theron was lagging way behind, in seventh (and last) place. But he was running smoothly, under control, conserving energy. Now was the time for him to make a move. All of a sudden, and to everyone’s surprise, he exploded forward, relying on the stamina that he had been carefully saving during the first half of the race. He ran like the wind; he might have been Mercury (swift messenger of the gods), sprinting hard, as if he had wings on his feet. One by one, he passed the other runners, flying into sixth place, then fifth and fourth, all the way to third. Before anyone knew it, he was hard on the heels of the second place competitor, Hesperus. Hesperus, and the favorite to win it all, the leader of the pack, Eurytus, were both astonished at this sudden challenge to their supremacy. Theron’s dogged determination showed no signs of diminishing. One more burst of speed and he passed Hesperus into second place. Hesperus was furious with these sudden, unexpected developments, but he was also powerless to do anything about the situation; he would have to settle for third place. But Eurytus still maintained the lead, and at this point, the finish line was in sight. Both Theron and Eurytus were exhausted: Theron from his recent strenuous exertions, and Eurytus from the looming fear that he might actually lose the race to the upset-minded Theron. Theron pulled into a tie with Eurytus, and side by side they sprinted down the track; a tie seemed to be a distinct possibility as the eventual outcome. Who could have foreseen what happened next? Hesperus, still running close behind the two leaders—and still seething at having been passed by Theron—literally took matters into his own hands. He was near enough to Theron that he was able to reach out and grab the long flowing hair of his rival, and give it a tug, just barely enough to throw him off stride for an instant. Eurytus took advantage of the momentary lapse to dart across the finish line in first place, and claim the helmet as his prize. All the other competitors received the prizes that were promised, according to their order of finish. [Strangely enough, Theron did not complain about the skullduggery, nor did anyone else; perhaps it was such a sufficiently subtle tug of the hair that no one noticed.] The next event: a swordfight. [Oddly, Silius does not describe the details

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of how this event was run, nor the names of the fighters, nor how many competed. Apparently, they were somehow paired up, with each pair fighting only one match. Hence, there would be several winners. The only one of these matches that receives any attention at all was one featuring a pair of twin brothers, fighting to the death.] The men who stepped forward to fight as gladiators were not drawn from the dregs of society, like slaves or criminals. These were battle-tested soldiers, eager for more glory. Among these volunteers was a pair of brothers, determined to fight each other; the crowd heartily disapproved of such apparent insanity, especially since the possibility of death or serious injury was very real. But the brothers were not to be deterred from their desire. Their encounter did not last very long, and ended when each man impaled the other with his sword. And so, both of them died. The other bouts did not result in the deaths of the combatants, and all of them received prizes of various kinds and value, depending on how well the recipients fought. Some were awarded oxen, while others were given servants who were expert hunters. Still others received prizes of silver, or war horses captured in battle, or helmets. Finally, the fourth and final event of the games arrived: a javelin throwing contest. Five competitors indicated their desire to participate: Burnus, Glagus, Aconteus, Indibilis, and Ilerdes. The last man named, Ilerdes, might have been the favorite to win, since he was able to hit high-flying birds at great distances with his javelin. Accuracy, not distance, was the objective; each thrower would aim at the same target, and the one who hit it would be declared the winner. The first man to throw: Burnus. He hit the target dead-center, and was awarded the first prize: a female servant who knew how to dye wool. Ilerdes came in second. He almost hit the target, but not quite. His prize was a young servant skilled at hunting and slaying deer. The third place prize, a pair of hunting hounds that specialized in chasing down wild boars, went to Aconteus. [The other two contestants apparently received no prizes, a contrast to the three preceding events, where no one walked away empty-handed.] Scipio formally closed the funeral games by awarding prizes to his brother and one of the other generals, Laelius, and then hurling his own spear toward heaven. When it fell back to the ground, an oak tree miraculously sprung from the very spot where the spear landed. Sources: Duff, J. D. (tr.). Silius Italicus. Punica. Books IX–XVII [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first published 1934. Silius Italicus, Punica 16.

Scirtus (charioteer). Scirtus—and this is the only name that survives—was a Roman charioteer who lived and competed in the first century ce; his place

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of birth is unknown. He raced exclusively for the White faction over the course of his 12 years (from 13 to 25 ce) as a charioteer, an oddity in that most charioteers whose careers lasted more than a year or two often switched factions, sometimes multiple times. His seasonal performances may be itemized thus: Year 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Firsts 1 1 1 2 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Firsts Revocatus 0 0 0 1 1 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0

Seconds 1 1 2 5 8 7 5 3 2 3 1 1 0

Thirds 1 2 5 5 6 12 5 4 5 4 5 4 2

Notes: This is one of the few charioteering inscriptions which provides a year-by-year itemization of revocatus victories. (The precise application of the term revocatus, literally “called back,” is uncertain. It probably refers to a race which had to be re-run, either because of a false start at the beginning, or because the closeness of the finish made it impossible to declare a winner, in which case the two [or more] charioteers had to be “called back,” presumably to run an additional lap.) It is notable that Scirtus never won a race outright after 17 ce. Perhaps his failure to bring home more first place finishes was a reason that he never advanced to one of the more popular and successful factions. Totaling only seven wins (or even 11, if the revocatus victories are included) in 12 years was undoubtedly also a factor in blunting his career progression. His best year for “places” (finishing first, second or third) was obviously 18 ce, with 19, but it was also the first year of eight in a row in which he won no outright victories. Interestingly, Scirtus’ career follows the typical bell-shaped curve characteristic of most professional athletes throughout history: his best years were 16–19 ce, when he achieved four of his seven career victories, 25 of his 39 second place finishes, and 28 of his 60 thirds. These years were preceded by a gradual increase in proficiency (13–15 ce), followed by a gradual decline (20–25), with the statistics of his final year nearly matching the numbers he put up in his first year.

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There is no indication in his inscription whether he retired after the year 25, or was killed, nor is there any information about his total number of races or the prize money he won. Source: CIL 6.10051.

Scorpus, Flavius (charioteer). Flavius Scorpus was a Roman charioteer who lived in the first century ce; since the poet Martial knew of him, he likely flourished in the latter part of that century. His place of birth is unknown, nor are the dates of his racing career. According to a reference in the lengthy inscription on the charioteer Appuleius Diocles (CIL 6.10048), Scorpus won an astounding total of 2,048 races during his career. The poet Martial mentions Scorpus in a couple epigrams. In one of these poems (4.67), he writes about a certain Gaurus, a man of somewhat limited financial means, but one who apparently had a net worth of 300,000 sesterces, only 100,000 short of the amount necessary to qualify as a member of Rome’s thriving middle class, the equestrians. So Gaurus approached an (unnamed) praetor friend of his, a man of some wealth, for the 100,000 (whether as a gift or a loan, Martial does not say). The praetor refused, claiming that he had already donated that much money and more to Scorpus, and another charioteer named Thallus. Gaurus’ plaintively exasperated response: “That which you unwilling to give to an eques (an equestrian), you are willing to give to a horse?” The editor of this epigram, D. R. Shackleton Bailey, observes that notable charioteers like Scorpus and Thallus often are portrayed in statuary, in action poses, driving their chariots. The implication seems to be that this praetor had donated the money for the statues—well over 200,000 sesterces in total—and that he was in no mood to advance an additional 100,000 to Gaurus for a promotion to the equestrian class. In a similarly-themed epigram (5.25), the poet bemoans the fact that society seems to deem it worthy and proper to spend 400,000 sesterces for a statue of Scorpus’ insensate horses, or a similar amount to sponsor shows in the amphitheater, than to support the arts and literature with such a sum of money. In another poem (10.74), Martial—like many people today—decries the large sums of money paid to professional athletes and other entertainers. He notes that he, as a man of letters, is fortunate to earn in a day 100 plumbeos (a pejorative word literally meaning “pieces of lead,” perhaps equivalent to a phrase like “plug nickel”), whereas a famous charioteer like Scorpus could win 15 heavy bags of gold in a single hour of racing chariots. Martial briefly alludes to Scorpus in the introduction to Book Eleven of his poems, when he speculates about who might read his latest literary efforts. One thing, at least, is certain: no one will read them until after the bets in

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the circus have been laid on Scorpus, and his famous horse, Incitatus. Chariot racing, of course, trumps literature in the minds of many of Martial’s fellow citizens. Scorpus apparently met his end in a race, and Martial, after having snarkily complained about the vast amounts of money that Scorpus won on the race track, seemed to have been genuinely touched by the charioteer’s death. In one poem (10.50), he indicates that Scorpus died before his time, while still a young man. The final lines: “The goal, ever quickly gained by your hastening [chariot]—your life’s goal too, why was it so close?” (tr. Bailey) imply that the poet believes that Scorpus reached the end of his life as quickly as his chariot made it to the finish line in one of his 2,048 victories. In another poem (10.53), he laments that Lachesis (one of the three Fates, who supposedly spun out the thread which determined a person’s life span), when she tallied his number of charioteering victories, must have thought that he was an old man, even though he had yet to attain the age of 30 when he died. Additionally, an inscription (CIL 6.10052) refers to a Scorpus—likely the same Flavius Scorpus, although this is not certain—and four of his winning horses: Pegasus, Elates, Andraemon, and Cotynus. Sources: Bailey, D. R. Shackleton (tr.). Martial. Epigrams. Volumes I, II, and III [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993. CIL 6.10048; CIL 6.10052. Martial, Epigrams 4.67; 5.25; 10.50; 10.53; 10.74; 11.1.

Secutor (pl. secutores; sometimes also known as Samnites). A secutor was a kind of Roman gladiator. Apparently, secutores were originally known as Samnites. The social historian Ludwig Friedlaender notes that the Samnites are last mentioned in literature by the first century bce poet Horace; hence, it seems likely that after that time, they were called secutores (literally “followers,” or “chasers”), because they were frequently matched up against retiarii, whom they often had to pursue around the arena. The Horatian reference comes from a short passage in one of his Epistles, in which he compares two poets who are constantly regaling each other with their poetry, like Samnite gladiators, who interminably battle each other without a verdict, until darkness falls. The equipment and appearance of the secutores was closely related to that of the Samnite warriors described by the historian Livy. He writes that they carried shields which were wide on the upper end (thus providing protection for the chest and shoulders), and then tapering down to the lower end, for greater mobility and ease in handling. A covering made of softer material—spongia, “sponge,” meaning tightly woven or quilted material— covered the chest, while a shin guard protected the left leg (i.e., the leg more vulnerable to a weapon brandished by a right-handed adversary). The helmets which they wore featured plumes, to give the illusion of height. Livy provides

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no information about what kind of weapons these soldiers carried; Cicero indicates that gladiatorial secutores were armed with hastae (spears), but he does not state if they customarily carried or used spears in gladiatorial matches. The term secutores first appears in Suetonius’ Life of Caligula, in a passage which also names their usual opponents. The biographer describes an unfortunate incident in the arena in which five secutores were paired up with a like number of retiarii. The retiarii surrendered without putting up any kind of a fight, but when their fate was being pronounced (apparently, execution), one of them suddenly picked up his trident and killed all five of the secutores. Caligula was shocked—or claimed to be—by this cold-blooded murder, and excoriated the spectators for having the forbearance to watch it unfold. Several interesting inscriptions detail the careers of individual secutores. CIL 3.8830, carved on a small sarcophagus found in Salona (on the east coast of the Adriatic Sea), honors the memory of the secutor Maximianus Aureus. The monument was commissioned by the widow and the brother (neither of whom is named) of the deceased, and it reveals that Maximianus lived 22 years, and fought in five matches. The most interesting part of the epitaph contains the Latin words deceptus a latrone bos. Deceptus means “taken away” (i.e., killed). The “word” bos has no meaning if allowed to stand alone, but if appended to latrone, it could form the word latronibus, “by robbers,” or “by thieves.” Could this be a way for Maximianus to save face posthumously, by referring to his gladiatorial opponents as not really true gladiators, but more like muggers or thugs? The epitaph of another secutor, by the name of Amabilis, indicates that he was “taken away by fate, not by a man.” Defeated athletes often blame their failures on circumstances which they could not control—the weather, the officiating, the venue, or simply bad luck. It would appear that Amabilis wanted posterity to know that he was a skilled gladiator, and that it was merely fate that caused his downfall. CIL 10.7297 honors the secutor Flamma, who lived for 30 years, and engaged in 34 bouts; his place of origin was Syria, his dates of birth and death are not indicated. This is one of the few inscriptions which offers a statistical itemization of a gladiator’s fights: vicit XXI: “he won 21”; stans VIIII: “standing, nine”; missus IIII: “defeated(?), four.” The phrase stans missus is tricky. Is it to be taken as two outcomes (as translated above), or as only one outcome? The editors of the venerable Oxford Latin Dictionary favor the latter: “[stans missus is a phrase that means] still standing (term applied to a gladiator whose fight is terminated while the contest is still undecided.)” This is a possible interpretation. The historian Garrett Fagan suggests that the term refers to a match in which neither gladiator could clearly claim victory, and neither had the stamina to continue the fight. In that case, both would be “sent away” (missus) “still standing” (stans); a draw, in other words.

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But these explanations do not account for the fact that in the Flamma inscription, it seems apparent that two different outcomes are indicated (the “nine” and the “four”). Perhaps the term, then, refers to inconclusive matches in which the winner had to be determined on appeal to the sponsor of the show or to the spectators. Thus, stans could refer to a match won on appeal, and missus to a match lost on appeal. So Flamma’s complete record would look like this—34 matches: 21 victories won outright, nine victories gained on appeal, four losses. Sources: Cicero, On the Orator, 2.80. Fagan, Garrett G. The Lure of the Arena. Social Psychology and the Crowd at the Roman Games. Cambridge, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume IV (translated by A. B. Gough). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued in 1968. Horace, Epistles 2.2.

Secundus, a.k.a. “The Mosquito” (gladiator). The text of CIL 6.10168 honors a paegniarius by the name of Secundus. Translation: To the Underworld Gods. In honor of the paegniarius Secundus The mosquito-like, Of the Ludus Magnus. Well-deserving. He lived 99 years, Eight months, 18 days. The gladiatorial family of the Ludus Magnus made [this monument]. The first line, a reference to the Underworld Gods, reveals that this inscription is an epitaph. A paegniarius was an unusual and infrequently seen type of gladiator. Apparently, paegniarii carried non-lethal weapons and participated in mock fights before the more serious bouts in a gladiatorial show. The word does not show up very often in Roman literature. In his Life of Caligula, the biographer Suetonius refers to that emperor’s habit of displaying in the arena citizens not trained as gladiators—paegniarii—to engage in sham contests, evidently as warm-ups to the matches involving trained, professional gladiators. (Think of undercard bouts before the main event in modern boxing, or little known singers or bands who take the stage prior to the performance of the headliner.) “Mosquito-like”? That is a possible translation for the epitaph’s odd Latin phrase in culice, literally, “in the manner of a mosquito.” But what might it mean in the context of the arena? Could it be a quasi-precursor of Muhammad Ali’s famous self-characterization, “float like a butterfly”? The phrase evidently refers to some mosquito-like quality that Secundus possessed, perhaps light and darting.

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The outstanding feature of this epitaph is found near the end, where it is stated that Secundus lived to the ripe old age of 99-plus years, unusually long-lived not merely for gladiators, but for Romans in general, who may have had an average life expectancy of around 40. His longevity was undoubtedly enhanced by the fact that he was a paegniarius, and not one who competed with more lethal weaponry. The epitaph concludes with the information that the entire gladiatorial familia of the Ludus Magnus financed the epitaph. This reinforces the contention that associations of gladiators formed a kind of rough camaraderie, and that gladiators were not necessarily “lone-wolf ” fighting machines, ready to attack and kill any and every potential adversary. Source: CIL 6.10168.

Selling gladiators. The emperor Caligula (reigned 37–41 ce) had a unique method of raising money: he would auction off—at inflated prices—surviving gladiators to government officials and other qualified eager buyers. But he also forced unwilling purchasers to buy these gladiators, and further compelled them to exhibit their new possessions in shows. Further, in order to make certain that at least two of the praetors would be counted among the prospective buyers, he revived an old custom that specified that two praetors, chosen at random, would be in charge of producing gladiatorial shows; obviously, then, these two unfortunate men would be in need of gladiators. In order to ensure that the sale prices would be as high as possible, Caligula himself appeared on the auctioneer’s platform to oversee the bidding. Participation in these auctions was not limited to individuals residing in Rome; people from elsewhere also attended the auctions, resulting in ever higher prices, in part because these potential buyers, or anyone else for that matter, were permitted to own a large number of gladiators than legally allowed. The auctions were apparently very successful at procuring funds for the emperor. The buyers paid top price for the gladiators; some purchasers would have bought them even without imperial compulsion, while others did so primarily to please Caligula. Wealthy people occasionally put in bids, too, not because they had a burning desire to become show producers, but only because by reducing their net worth in this way, they could avoid being placed on a proscription list. Sometimes, he (inexplicably) poisoned the best gladiators, and did the same with horses and charioteers of factions which he disliked. (He was a rabid fan of the Green faction, and by eliminating some of their rivals, he obviously increased their chances of winning.) Source: Dio Cassius, Roman History 59.

Seneca the Younger on Roman sports. The Roman philosopher and playwright Seneca the Younger (4 bce–65 ce) wrote many essays and treatises,

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including a collection of some 124 short reflections titled Epistulae Morales, or Moral Epistles. In one of these essays, “On Worldly Deceptions,” he takes up the topic of athletes who participate in dangerous sports. He begins by noting that on the day on which he wrote this essay, he was happy to have some uninterrupted time, because all of the boring people who customarily pestered him had gone off to watch a boxing match. So he is gratified to know that he will not have to constantly open his door, or draw his curtains, in response to some interloper at the threshold. But the image of the boxing match steers his thoughts toward the popularity of such shows, especially in comparison to more intellectual pursuits. He apparently lived near a stadium of some sort, for he mentions hearing the noise of the cheering crowds, and while that does not particularly distract him, it sets him to thinking about the contrast between body and mind. How many people, he laments, engage in physical training, how few in mental training. And how many stream into the circus and the arena, how few show a similar enthusiasm for study and schooling. He claims that the athletes, whose heavily-muscled shoulders the multitudes admire, have empty heads, and he implicitly criticizes them for consuming prodigious amounts of food and drink, and for wasting vast amounts of oil when they anoint their bodies prior to their matches. (Boxers and wrestlers, in particular, were noted for generously slathering themselves with oil.) But here is the overriding question which Seneca poses: “if the body can be trained to such a degree of endurance that it will stand the blows and kicks of several opponents at once” (tr. Gummere), and to absorb that sort of punishment all day long, under a blistering Roman summer sun, while covered in its own blood, if it is possible for a person’s body to endure all this, then should it not also be possible to strengthen the mind in a similar way, so that its owner could withstand life’s adversities again and again, without yielding and crumbling?” Sources: Seneca the Younger, Moral Epistles 80. Gummere, Richard M. (tr.). Seneca Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Volume II. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1920.

Septimius Severus and Roman sports. The emperor Septimius Severus (full Roman name Lucius Septimius Severus, reigned 193–211 ce) spent much of the first nine years of his reign away from Rome, but beginning in 202, he remained in the city for the next six years. Upon his return in 202, games and spectacles honoring his return were held throughout Rome. Many of these shows featured mock wild beast hunts, including one in which 60 wild boars fought to the death with each other; also slaughtered were an elephant and a corocotta (a wild beast from India, possibly a hyena-like creature, or a dogwolf hybrid). This marked the first time that a corocotta was seen in Rome.

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The Coliseum had undergone a kind of renovation which caused it to resemble a ship, and within the confines of this quasi-ship, as many as 400 wild animals could be contained at the same time. When the portion of the structure which held the animals was sprung open, they all came rushing out to the arena floor: bears, lions, panthers, ostriches, wild donkeys, and bison, all running in different directions. The shows were scheduled to stretch out over seven days, so exactly 700 animals were slain in all, or seven times one hundred. The two sons of Severus, Antoninus (the future emperor Caracalla) and Geta, were hardly paragons of virtue. They were abusive, dishonest in money matters, and they associated with gladiators and charioteers, an act of social leveling which would have been shocking to upper class Romans. The two of them were always heated rivals, and if one of them expressed support for a particular racing faction, the other would immediately back a different faction. They even raced chariots against each other, and in one of these contests, Antoninus fell out of his chariot, and suffered a broken leg. He subsequently became ill, but all through his convalescence, his father paid him little heed, instead focusing on his official duties. For this, Severus was widely applauded. Source: Dio Cassius, Roman History 77.

Sergius the gladiator, and the senator’s wife. What would motivate a distinguished Roman matron to abandon her senatorial husband and her comfortable home to run off with a lowly gladiator? The poet Juvenal raises that question in his sixth Satire: When Eppia, the senator’s wife, ran off with a gladiator [to Egypt], Canopus [a town on the Nile] cried shame upon the monstrous morals of [Rome]. Forgetful of home, of husband and of sister, she shamelessly abandoned her weeping children…. And what were the youthful charms which captivated Eppia? What did she see in him to allow herself to be called “a she–Gladiator” [i.e., a ludia]? (tr. Ramsay).

Juvenal reserves some of his most acerbic language for Eppia, who left home and hearth to flee to Egypt with a gladiator named Sergius, whose date of birth and place of origin are unknowns. Her behavior seems all the more puzzling, since Sergius is hardly handsome to look at, with his cut arm, deformed and scarred face, the huge lump on his nose, and his constantly watering eye. Juvenal remarks that these features were to be expected in gladiators; this is how they are “transform[ed] … into Hyacinthuses.” (According to Greek mythology, Hyacinth was a young man dear to the god Apollo; his name made its way into Latin, where it usually refers to a young man of considerable handsomeness. Perhaps that is what attracted Eppia to Sergius. Or possibly it was the thrill of having a relationship with an athlete; Juvenal claims that the love of the sword, in addition to its wielder’s physical appearance, is appealing.)

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Although Juvenal does not indicate Sergius’ gladiatorial classification, the physical description would suggest that he fought as a heavily-armed gladiator, perhaps a Thracian or a Samnite. The poet does assert that the swelling on his nose resulted from the constant friction caused by his helmet. (Compare the faces of modern professional hockey or football players, whose noses and foreheads suffer similar fates.) Juvenal may also be expressing contempt for Sergius simply by the way in which he refers to him: Sergiolus. The diminutive suffix -olus may be a reference to the gladiator’s physique (“little Sergius”) or his age (“young Sergius”), but given Juvenal’s perspective, it is more likely meant to convey a negative connotation about Sergius’ social status, especially when compared to the respectable position of Eppia’s husband. Sources: Juvenal, Satire 6. Ramsay, G. G. Juvenal and Persius. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first published 1918.

Severus Alexander and Roman sports. The well-meaning but generally ineffective emperor Severus Alexander (full Roman name: Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander, reigned 222–235 ce) had at least a marginal connection to Roman sports, and especially their financial dimension. For example, he decreed that individuals whom he had nominated for the office of quaestor would be obligated to fund games and shows at their own expense. The payback would come in the form of a future appointment to a higher office— praetor—and after that, a prestigious provincial governorship. Other quaestors, however, would be permitted to fund shows and games out of the public treasury, but in those cases, the perquisites of higher office and a governorship would presumably not be available. Severus had also intended to provide regularly scheduled spectacles throughout the year, at 30-day intervals, but those plans never materialized; the reason remains a mystery. The emperor himself often attended the shows, but avoided the custom of giving presents or money to the performers, saying that charioteers and mock wild beast hunters should be treated as slaves or household servants. As for the taxes which were imposed on prostitutes and their owners, he ordered that the funds collected in this manner should be channeled into the public treasury, but should not be used for necessary repairs on the Theater of Marcellus, the Circus Maximus, the Stadium of Domitian, and the Coliseum. The latter had been struck by lightning a few years before, in August of 217, and suffered extensive damage, especially from the fires that followed. The entire upper part of the structure was destroyed, as well as the arena. Valiant efforts were made to extinguish the blaze—Dio Cassius writes that water from the aqueducts was used extensively in fighting the fire—and there was also divine assistance: a heavy downpour of rain, but all to no avail. In fact, the vast amounts of water emptied onto and into the

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building contributed to the overall destruction. It would be many years before the Coliseum was once again usable, and in the interim, gladiatorial shows were held in other facilities, including the Circus Maximus. Sources: Aelius Lampridius, Life of Severus Alexander 24, 37. Dio Cassius, Roman History 79. Cary, Earnest (tr.), Dio’s Roman History. Volume IX [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1927.

Shark attack! Swimming and diving in shark-infested waters has always been a perilous undertaking, as Pliny the Elder points out in a brief discussion of the problem in his book on natural history. He notes that these fish—called caniculae in Latin—tend to swarm above sponge divers, and worse yet, are sometimes accompanied by rays. This cluster of sea animals makes it very difficult for the divers to surface; to do so, they have to fight or cut their way through the mass. Sharks in particular present the most difficult challenge for divers, who have to fend off shark attacks directed especially at their legs and feet. Pliny writes that a diver’s only hope is to play offense and to try to frighten off the fish with a display of aggression. Interestingly, he states that sharks are as wary of humans as the other way around, as long as both are immersed in deep water. But once the diver comes to the surface, as he obviously must, the real danger arises. For he will have to surrender his aggressive stance while he tries to get out of the water, and into the safety of the fishing boat. (Sponge divers customarily made their dives with a rope encircling their arms and shoulders; other divers who remained on the boat held onto the end of the rope.) This rope now becomes the diver’s lifeline. If a shark attack materializes, the submerged diver signals it to those on the boat by tugging on the rope. They pull the rope in slowly, until the diver approaches the boat, at which time, they try to extract him quickly from the water with a sudden, powerful hoisting motion. Even that might not be enough to save him, unless he has remembered to curl up into a ball, so as not to expose his limbs to the sharks. While all of this activity is occurring, other members of the crew throw harpoons at the sharks, but they evade the harpoons by swimming directly underneath the boat. The goal, of course, is to prevent a shark attack in the first place. One of the best ways to do this is to try to find sponge beds which are located close to schools of flatfish, which sharks seem to avoid. Because of their apparent ability to deter sharks, the divers call them “sacred fish.” Interestingly, in another section of his book, Pliny recommends boiling shark brains in oil and using the liquid as a sort of mouth wash, to relieve toothache pain. And he also suggests that a shark’s tooth can be used as an amulet for children, to deter what he calls “sudden terrors.” Source: Pliny the Elder, Natural History 9, 32.

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Sisinnes, an accidental gladiator. The second century bce satirist and essayist Lucian wrote a dialogue on friendship, featuring a conversation between Toxaris of Scythia (on the northern coast of the Black Sea), and Mnesippus, a Greek. They decide to cast their conversation in the form of an exercise to determine whether the Greeks or the Scythians hold friendship in higher regard. To make this determination, Toxaris will relate five examples of Scythian friendship, while Mnesippus does the same using five Greek examples. One of Toxaris’ five stories is about his friend Sisinnes, a young man who volunteers to become a gladiator in order to demonstrate his loyalty to Toxaris. The tale unfolds like this: Toxaris and his friend from childhood, Sisinnes, were sailing from Scythia to Athens, to satisfy Toxaris’ wish to absorb the cultural amenities of that famous Greek city. En route, they stopped off at a town called Amastris, on the coast of the sea. They secured a place to stay for the night, dropped off their luggage in their room, and then went out on a shopping excursion. But while they were away, some thieves broke into their lodgings and made away with all their possessions: money, clothing, some rugs, everything. There was nothing left. When they returned from shopping, and discovered the loss, they pondered their options. They decided against launching any inquiries among the other roomers, or nearby residents, nor did they think it wise to question the owner of the lodgings. Toxaris’ rather extreme suggestion was to run himself through with his sword, thinking that a hasty departure from the world would be preferable to enduring the danger and the humiliation of having to try to procure food and money in a strange city where he knew no one. But Sisinnes talked him out of that drastic measure, and assured his friend that he would think of some other way out of their predicament. So that very day, Sisinnes found temporary work in the harbor, helping to unload lumber (apparently from cargo ships which had docked there); with the money he earned, he purchased food and other necessities for the two of them. The next morning, as he made his way into the agora, he observed a procession of handsome and athletic young men, who had signed up to fight combats with one another, for pay; the matches were to take place in two days. Sisinnes learned all the details of this spectacle, and then he himself enrolled. He thereupon returned to Toxaris, and assured him that their money worries were over, and that he, Sisinnes, would transform their poverty into wealth (although he did not tell his friend about the nature of the “work” he had obtained). The intervening time was not so pleasurable, however, since Sisinnes did not resume his harbor work, so there was no income. But finally, the big day arrived. Sisinnes suggested to Toxaris that they go downtown to the local theater, to watch a show which promised to be both new and enjoyable. Toxaris agreed.

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The first act of the day featured a herd of wild animals, which were hunted down by dogs, and men with spears. The surviving animals were then let loose on men, apparently criminals, who were shackled in chains. Next, a line of gladiators marched into the arena. A herald led in a tall young man, and announced to the crowd that anyone who wanted to fight a match with that man should indicate his interest in doing so; he would receive the sum of 10,000 drachmas (a considerable amount of money) for his efforts. Sisinnes could not resist an offer like that. He immediately vacated his seat, requested armor and weaponry, and prepared to do battle. The organizers of the show prepaid him the 10,000, which he turned over to his friend Toxaris, telling him that if he won, they would have plenty of money to get to Athens. But if he lost (and was presumably killed), Toxaris should bury him, and return to Scythia. Naturally, Toxaris was worried for his friend’s health and safety, but the matter was settled. Sisinnes put on his armor, everything except a helmet, for he had decided to fight bareheaded. The match began. Sisinnes absorbed the first blow, a slashing hit from a curved sword, to the back of his leg, which caused a wound that bled profusely. When he saw this bloody beginning, Toxaris nearly died from fright. But Sisinnes was not yet done for. Landing that nearly lethal blow inspired confidence in Sisinnes’ opponent, perhaps excessively so. The man tried to press his advantage—or what he assumed was his advantage—and as he did so, Sisinnes (despite his weakened condition) was able to thrust his sword deep into his opponent’s chest, the coup de grâce. But Sisinnes’ wound was also grave; he seemed to be on the verge of death. Toxaris ran to him, encouraged him, and carried him back to their rented room. After a long series of treatments and therapy, he recovered and returned to Scythia, where he married Toxaris’ sister, and where he still resided at the time of the telling of the story. But his severe wound still caused him to walk with a limp. Toxaris insisted to Mnesippus that the tale was true, and that many people from Amastris witnessed the event, and would attest to its veracity. Sources: Harmon, A. M. (tr.). Lucian. Volume V [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1936. Lucian, Toxaris, or Friendship 57–60.

Spartacus: gladiator and rebel. Spartacus (first century bce) was a Thracian by birth, who at one time had served in the Roman army, but was eventually taken prisoner and sold to be trained as a gladiator, in the year 73 bce. He was sent to the city of Capua (south of Rome) where he became a member of the gladiatorial school owned there by a certain Lentulus Batiatus. Spartacus and the other gladiators were well behaved, but nevertheless, they were

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cruelly mistreated by Lentulus until the time came for them to fight in the arena. Some 200 of them plotted to escape, but their plans were upended (apparently by one of their number who informed Lentulus), and only 78 of them ultimately managed to make it to freedom. They armed themselves with knives and other cutting tools that they commandeered from the school’s commissary. Once on the loose, they had the good fortune to happen upon a caravan of wagons laden with weaponry bound for another gladiatorial school. They took advantage of the situation by seizing the weapons for themselves. They then found a fortified location—Mount Vesuvius, according to the historian Appian—and began to formulate a strategy. First, they elected three leaders. The most dynamic of these three was Spartacus. Plutarch writes that he was not only physically strong and charismatic, but unexpectedly intelligent and sophisticated, “more like a Greek than a Thracian” (tr. Warner). It was rumored that when he was first sold to the gladiatorial school, a snake slithered around his head while he was sleeping. His wife, who had escaped with him, and who was a prophet, announced that the snake was a sign that her husband would someday possess fierce and terrifying power, only to meet his end in tragedy. Meanwhile, a contingent of soldiers from Capua had learned where the escaped gladiators were entrenched, and came after them. But the gladiators soon overpowered their attackers and stripped them of their weapons; these were much better suited to combat than their gladiatorial arms, which they then discarded. Next, a Roman praetor named Gaius Claudius Glaber, along with 3,000 soldiers, was sent from Rome to deal with the escapees. By this time, the gladiators had occupied the summit of a high hill. There was only one pathway to the top of the hill; the rest of it was impassable, because of the high cliffs, and steep slopes. There appeared to be no way down the hill except by the path, and into the midst of the soldiers waiting below. But the resourceful Spartacus noticed that the hilltop was covered with a profusion of wild vines. So he and his men went to work cutting these vines and fashioning them into ladders long enough to reach from the summit all the way to the bottom of the hill. Hence, they were able to scale down the side of the cliff face on these ladders, unobserved by the soldiers on the opposite side. All of the gladiators made their way down the ladders except for one who remained behind; once all his comrades were down, he began dropping down their weapons to them, and once this task was accomplished, he, too, clambered down one of the vines, and made it safely to the plain below. Since the Romans were unaware of what was transpiring on the other side of the hill, the gladiators, once they had all made it to ground level, were able to make their way around the hill, and surprise the soldiers by coming up on them from behind. The gladiators easily overcame their adversaries, and took

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over their encampment. As word of the attack spread throughout the area, many sturdy and dependable shepherds and farmers joined with the gladiators; some of these “new recruits” became infantrymen, while others served as scouts. After the failure of Claudius to suppress the uprising, the Romans sent out a second contingent of soldiers, under the command of the praetors Publius Varinius (or Valerius) and Lucius Cossinius. From a concealed location, Spartacus carefully observed their routines and troop strength; he even came close to capturing Cossinius while he was swimming. The praetor barely eluded him, but Spartacus was able to seize all of his equipment, and followed him back to his encampment. There, Spartacus and his followers engaged in battle with Cossinius and his soldiers. The rebels were victorious; Cossinius was numbered among the slain. Not long after that, Spartacus turned his attention to the forces of the other praetor, Varinius, and attacked them several times. Ultimately, Spartacus once again prevailed. Plutarch writes that after these battlefield successes, Spartacus wielded considerable power, and his reputation began to spread. Appian notes that more and more volunteers swarmed to Spartacus’ side, until his army boasted around 70,000 men. But even so, he remained level-headed, and did not become tyrannical or arrogant. He knew that the full force of the Roman army would now be directed against him, and so he decided to march his army from south central Italy to the north, and the Alps Mountains. He apparently felt that they had made their point, and that from the Alps, they should disperse to their own homes, in Gaul or Thrace, or from wherever else they had come, knowing that there was little likelihood that they could ever be tracked down, captured, and punished. Unfortunately, Spartacus’ men were not as sensible as he; they were full of confidence, and they rejected his proposal to flee to the Alps. Instead, they stayed in Italy, conducting raids and pillaging the countryside. Meanwhile, back in Rome, Spartacus’ rebellion had clearly gotten the attention of the senate. Both consuls for the year 72, Lucius Gellius Publicola and Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Clodianus, were ordered to deal aggressively with the situation. Gellius met with some initial successes, but Lentulus was not as fortunate; Spartacus’ rebels thoroughly routed his forces and commandeered all of their battle gear. Next, Spartacus and his men once again tried to undertake a retreat to the Alps, but before they could reach the safety of the mountains, they were confronted by a large Roman army under the command of the governor of Gaul, Gaius Cassius Longinus. But Cassius was no more effective than Lentulus had been; once more, a Roman force suffered an embarrassing and costly defeat at the hands of the rebels. When the news of this latest disaster reached Rome, the senate felt both furious and humiliated that their armies could be throttled by a ragtag force

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composed mostly of gladiators, slaves, and untrained peasants. In the year 71, accordingly, they fired the two consuls, and turned the command over to Marcus Licinius Crassus, a well-known politician, and proverbially Rome’s wealthiest citizen. Because of his prestige and name recognition, many members of the nobility were eager to join him in the effort to suppress the rebellion. Meanwhile, Spartacus—who had apparently abandoned plans to retreat to the Alps—was leading his troops toward Picenum, an area on the east coast of Italy, and northeast of Rome. Crassus got wind of the situation, and marched his soldiers in that direction, with the intention of confronting the rebels there. Further, he entrusted a large number of soldiers to one of his subordinate officers, a certain Mummius, whose instructions were to follow Spartacus, but not to initiate any military action. But once Mummius drew near to the enemy, and thinking it a good opportunity to obtain some personal glory, he disregarded the orders, and attacked. It was a mistake. The ensuing battle went poorly for the Roman soldiers; many were killed, while many others tossed away their weapons and ran from the scene. Mummius (who survived the battle) was sternly reprimanded for his folly, and some of the soldiers who fled faced a severe disciplinary action. Crassus felt that his newly disciplined army was now ready to attack the enemy once again. But the rebels had slipped away and ultimately established a stronghold in the peninsula of Rhegium, in the extreme southern tip of Italy. Crassus followed, and set his men to work building tall, fortified walls around Spartacus’ encampment. Spartacus was thus temporarily walled in and trapped, but meteorological help was on the way, in the form of a rare snowstorm. He and much of his army escaped under the cover of the snowy night. When Crassus learned that he had been outmaneuvered, he greatly feared that his adversary might take advantage of the situation to launch an attack on Rome. But Spartacus had troubles of his own: some of his soldiers, disenchanted with the way in which events were unfolding, had left the main body of the army. So Crassus tracked down the dissidents and would have easily defeated them, had not Spartacus suddenly appeared and successfully intervened. Crassus had previously contacted the Roman senate and requested reinforcements; soldiers serving under Gnaeus Pompeius (Pompey the Great) in Spain, and Lucius Licinius Lucullus in Thrace were available. But now, Crassus began to regret having made this request. He apparently believed that he was capable of vanquishing Spartacus and crushing the rebellion without outside assistance, and he feared that if either Pompey or Lucullus became involved, that one or both might attempt to steal the credit that Crassus thought was rightfully his own. He was thus eager to finish the war before either of those two commanders could arrive. He therefore decided to take advantage of the seeming divisions within Spartacus’ army, and attack one

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of the contingents which was operating independently. Six thousand of his soldiers attempted to stealthily establish a position on some high ground, but the rebels observed them before they were able to accomplish this. Having lost the element of surprise, Crassus brought forward the full force of the rest of his army, and initiated the battle. Plutarch refers to this encounter as “the most stubbornly contested battle of all” (tr. Warner). Some 12,300 of Spartacus’ followers were killed, but only two of these were found to have been wounded in the back; the rest stood their ground, and resisted the Romans to the end. After this defeat, Spartacus and his surviving troops made their way into the nearby mountains, pursued by soldiers under the command of two of Crassus’ subordinate officers, Quintus Marcius Rufus, and Gnaeus Tremellius Scrofa. Spartacus called off the retreat, and faced the Romans; the rebels won a decisive victory, and Scrofa was seriously wounded. Unfortunately, the victory brought with it an unintended side effect: it spawned an unwarranted overconfidence in many of the gladiators and slaves who achieved it. They began to believe that they were invincible, and that they could defeat the Romans anytime, anywhere. They mutinied against their leaders, and forced them to initiate another engagement against the Romans. This kind of mindless aggressiveness was exactly what Crassus was hoping for. Rumor had it that Pompey and his formidable army were already on the march from Spain, and that many people assumed Pompey would win the war against Spartacus once and for all, and in only one battle. These kinds of stories and prognostications greatly worried Crassus, who desperately wanted the credit for vanquishing the rebellion. Since he was eager to initiate a battle before Pompey’s arrival, he ordered his soldiers to set up camp near the rebel army. They began digging a trench, but the eager slaves and gladiators attacked them as they were doing so. Reinforcements from both armies swarmed to the scene, so Spartacus realized that his hand had been forced, and that a major battle was imminent. One of his aides brought his war horse to him. He promptly killed the animal with his sword, saying that if he were victorious, he could take his pick of the captured enemy horses, but if he lost, he would have no need of any horse. Thereupon, he attempted to make his way directly to Crassus, apparently hoping to engage him in a one-on-one showdown. But he was not able to reach the Roman commander, and meanwhile, many of his gladiatorial army began to flee the battlefield. Those that remained engaged in a bloody battle with the Romans. Spartacus was hit in the thigh with a spear and dropped to one knee, but still he continued the engagement, fighting off his attackers left and right, until ultimately, he was surrounded by enemy soldiers, and killed. Their leader gone, the rest of his army was overwhelmed and slaughtered en masse; Appian reports that about 1,000 Roman soldiers were

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killed, but that so many of Spartacus’ men met the same fate, it was impossible to count the numbers. The few surviving rebels made a desperate effort to flee to the mountains, but Crassus followed, and cut down all the rest, except for 6,000 whom he took as prisoners. These he crucified; the crosses were set up on the Appian Way, on its entire route between Rome and Capua. The uprising of Spartacus revealed to the Romans in a dramatic way that high concentrations of gladiators could result in volatile and dangerous situations. Therefore, although private individuals were still allowed to own gladiators, some legal restrictions were applied to those individuals. For example, in his aedileship in 65 bce, Julius Caesar produced a gladiatorial show, but with some restraints. He was not permitted to exhibit as great a number of gladiators as he had originally intended. He had amassed a large number of them, from many sources, and this assemblage struck fear (probably well justified) into the hearts of his political rivals. Thus a law was passed which limited the number of gladiators which any individual could possess and exhibit. A few years later, when the Catilinarian conspiracy was underway, the senate feared the possibility of another gladiator/slave revolt of the mold originally fashioned by Spartacus. It therefore decreed that gladiatorial familiae in Rome at the time be dispersed and sent to various towns in Italy, in order to dispel the potential danger to Rome if they remained in the city and joined Catiline. .

Sources: Appian, The Civil Wars 1.116–120. Plutarch, Life of Crassus 8–11. Suetonius, Life of Julius Caesar 10. Warner, Rex (tr.). Fall of the Roman Republic. Six Lives by Plutarch. Baltimore: Penguin, first published 1958.

Swimming under duress. The sixth century bce Horatius Cocles (whose surname Cocles means “one-eyed”) was long-remembered in Roman lore as undergoing an arduous and very dangerous swim in the Tiber River, which was precipitated by an equally perilous situation. It seems that the neighboring Etruscans initiated an attack on Rome by attempting to march across one of the bridges leading into the city. Horatius happened to be on guard at the bridge at the time, and he saw the Etruscan advance. His comrades began to flee in fear, but Horatius implored them one at a time not to abandon the bridge, but rather climb down under its pilings and try to destroy them. Meanwhile, he alone would station himself at the front of the bridge and withstand the enemy charge. He did so; wave upon wave of Etruscan soldiers were turned back, by this one man. Suddenly, the damaged pilings gave way, and the entire bridge collapsed into the river. Horatius uttered a prayer and then hurled himself into the water. Despite the weight of his armor, the current of the river, and the spears and arrows whizzing all around him, he

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managed to swim across to safety on the Roman side. The Etruscans did not sustain the attack, saying as they left: “We defeated the Romans, but Horatius defeated us.” His grateful fellow citizens erected a statue in Horatius’ honor, and they bestowed upon him a plot of land as large as he could plow in one day. Not only that, but private citizens also gave him gifts, each according to his own means. Horatius Cocles was not the only legendary Roman to perform miraculous feats under dangerous circumstances. Even women were fully capable of perilous swims. Around 508 bce, the Romans were in the process of negotiating a peace treaty with the Etruscan king, Lars Porsinna. He had been besieging the city, and the only way the Romans could induce him to withdraw his forces was to offer him hostages. He agreed to this deal, and commenced his retreat. Among the hostages was a young woman named Cloelia, as courageous and patriotic as any of her male counterparts. At an opportune moment, when the Etruscan army had set up camp not far from the Tiber River (on the bank opposite to Rome), she led a small group of fellow hostages—all of them young women—and made a successful dash for the river. They plunged in and began swimming across toward Rome, and safety. Although they had managed to initially escape the notice of their captors, they were sighted once they were in the water. The Etruscan guards sprinted to the river bank and began shooting arrows and throwing spears at them. But through it all, Cloelia managed to lead her entire band of swimmers safely ashore. The Romans were so impressed with her courage and her initiative that they dedicated an equestrian statue in her honor, something which had never been done for a woman. Many years later, during Julius Caesar’s Gallic Wars of the 50s bce, a soldier by the name of Publius Scaevius gained renown almost equal to that won by Horatius, and in a similar circumstance. Scaevius and several fellow soldiers were riding in a ship cruising the coast of Britain. They landed on a rock outcropping near the island, which was at that time occupied by a hostile force. When the tide ebbed, enough water had been displaced to create easily fordable access to the rock, an advantage not unnoticed by the enemy soldiers. They swarmed across from the mainland towards the rock; the Romans who had taken possession of the place immediately fled to the ship moored nearby, and made for safety. All the Romans, that is, except for one: Publius Scaevius. Scaevius metamorphosed into a one-man wrecking crew, hurling javelins right and left at the invaders, as many javelins as five soldiers could throw in an entire day. When the most aggressive enemy soldiers drew near, Scaevius unsheathed his sword and repelled them with thrusts of his blade, and pushbacks with his shield. Finally, exhausted and bloodied, with a spear in his thigh, his face smashed by a rock, his helmet shattered, and his shield shred-

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ded, he dove into the ocean, and made a desperate swim for safety. Despite his condition, and weighed down by his body armor, he continued to swim until finally collapsing into the arms of his comrades on the ship. Julius Caesar was never known to shy away from any danger, including the watery kind. On one of his many military expeditions—this one near Alexandria, in Egypt, while his army was attempting to take possession of a bridge—an unexpected enemy attack forced him to hurriedly jump into a small boat. But many of his comrades had the same idea, and the craft was quickly overloaded. So Caesar abandoned the boat, dove into the water, fully dressed as he was, and began swimming for the nearest Roman ship, some 200 yards away. Remarkably, it was a one-handed swim; in his left hand, which he held aloft for the entire swim, he was carrying some documents which he did not want to get wet. And he had to dodge spears and arrows shot at him by the Egyptians, from all angles; he often had to swim underwater in order to avoid the missiles flying around him. Not only that, but he dragged his cloak in his teeth as he swam, not because the cloak was in any way irreplaceable, but simply because he did not want it to fall into enemy hands. Caesar was very proud of his celeritas—the swiftness with which he could accomplish tasks and goals—and in his many travels, speed was often of the essence. He could customarily cover up to 100 miles in a day in a carriage (very fast, by the standards of the time), and if the progress of his carriage happened to be blocked by an unbridged river, he would simply swim across it. Sources: Livy, History of Rome 2.10; 2.13. Plutarch, Life of Caesar 49. Polybius, History of Rome 6.55. Suetonius, Life of Julius Caesar 57, 64. Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 3.2. (Polybius states that Horatius did not survive his dangerous swim.)

Swordfish: A Dangerous Catch. The historian Polybius, referencing Homer’s Odyssey, describes the manner in which Sicilian fishermen try to catch swordfish. A flotilla of small boats (each one carrying two men) heads for the fishing spot, with one man serving as the lookout and signaler for all the boats. When the signaler catches sight of a swordfish, he communicates its location to the fishermen. The two men in the closest boat approach the spot; one man rows, the other stands in the bow, harpoon at the ready. When the boat gets close to the fish, the harpooner stabs it with his weapon, and immediately withdraws the wooden shaft, leaving the barbed point in the fish’s body. A long line or a rope had previously been attached to the spear point; one or both of the men then grab onto this line and let the fish tire itself out in its efforts to break free. Once the fish has exhausted itself in its struggles, the fishermen

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try to subdue and transport it, but even this is no easy task, since some swordfish are too large and heavy to be carried in the boat. The danger arises when the fishermen make their attempt to haul the fish into the boat. Even a tired swordfish can be dangerous, and the men could easily be injured by its sword-like snout if they do not exercise caution when handling it. Polybius states that such a creature is similar to a wild boar, both in its aggressive behavior, and in the method of hunting it. Source: Polybius, History of Rome 34.3.

Tertullian on Roman sports. Tertullian (ca. 160–225 ce) was born in Carthage, into a pagan family, but he converted to Christianity as an adult. He wrote extensively on Christian doctrine, including the concept of the Trinity; he is generally credited with being the first writer to articulate that concept. One of his surviving works, De Spectaculis (Concerning Spectacles) examines the impropriety of Christians attending gladiatorial shows, chariot races, and dramatic productions. The work is divided into 30 chapters; synopses of the chapters of particular relevance follow. Chapter III. Some Christians argue that it should be permissible for them to attend games and shows, because there is no specific statement anywhere in Scripture that expressly forbids them to do so. Tertullian concedes the point; however, he notes that King David, in Psalm 1, wrote that the happy or blessed person is they who avoids the purveyors of evil, and who does not associate with them, one who does not “stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers” (tr. Glover). He points out that every gladiatorial show and every chariot race attracts throngs of impious pagans, and simply by attending the spectacles, even a good and faithful Christian would be forced to stand near them, and sit next to them. He further argues (in Chapter IV) that by virtue of their baptism, Christians have renounced Satan and his allies, whose chief characteristic is idolatry, and since games and shows fall within the realm of idolatry, to attend such events is tantamount to a show of support for idol worship. Chapter V. In this chapter, Tertullian explores the origins of violent and dangerous sports. He admits that a historical survey is somewhat irrelevant, and that he will have to consult heathen literature for information, but he will proceed nonetheless. He informs the reader that people from Lydia (a region now occupied by Turkey) migrated to Etruria, in central Italy. There they founded games and shows inspired by their religious beliefs. In due course, the Romans imported both the performers and their shows. The shows proliferated: the first games were called the Liberalia, in honor of the god Bacchus. Next came the Consualia, for Neptune, and the Ecurria, honoring Mars, and founded by Rome’s first king, Romulus (reigned 753–714 bce). Some say

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that Romulus also instituted the (aforementioned) Consualia, to honor not only Neptune, but also Consus, god of good counsel. Tertullian reports that an underground altar in honor of this god still existed in his time, in the Circus Maximus. Additionally, Romulus is said to have established the Tarpeian and Capitoline games. His successor, Numa Pompilius (reigned 714–661 bce) is credited with having founded games in honor of Mars, and also Robigo, goddess of corn. Later kings also introduced shows and games. But all of these spectacles, from Tertullian’s point of view, were immoral bastions of idolatry. Chapter VII. After continuing his historical survey in Chapter VI, Tertullian next turns his attention specifically to the idolatrous nature of the chariot races. He notes, for example, that the pompa, the ceremonial parade around the racetrack which always preceded the races, features an array of statuary, chariots, thrones, crowns, robes—all of which would potentially fall under the category of idol worship. Even in the remote provinces, where the ostentation of the races is restricted by limited funds, the impact remains the same; an offense to God. And even if the number of images or chariots is few, idolatry is still on display. Chapter VIII. Tertullian begins this chapter with some background information about the circus. He states that since the circus is dedicated to the sun, it would have been inappropriate to cover it with any kind of roof or awning. Further, some believe that the word “circus” was derived from the name of the goddess Circe, who reportedly instituted the first chariot race, in honor of her father, the sun. Tertullian recognizes the presence of idolatry everywhere in the circus, even in its ornamentation. The artificial eggs, for example, evoke thoughts of the gods Castor and Pollux, and perhaps Jupiter. (Images of eggs were used as lap counters during the races; each time a lap was completed, a track official removed an egg from its holder. The usual number was seven.) He sees and recounts many other examples of images and altars which inspire idol worship, and he concludes this section with a severely-worded reminder to his Christian audience that the circus is a vile place, made unclean by all the “spirits of the devil” which inhabit it. Chapter IX. In this chapter, Tertullian turns his attention to the horses, chariots, and drivers to be seen in the circus. He writes that originally, human use of horses for transportation was perfectly acceptable, a guilt-free activity. But when horses began to be used in racing, their status changed; no longer were they gifts of God, but rather, tools of Satan. He next traces the supposed connection between horses and various pagan gods and goddesses, noting in particular, that the legendary Athenian King Erichthonius, son of Minerva (Greek Athena) and Vulcan (Hephaestus), invented both two-horse and fourhorse chariots. In consequence, Tertullian deems Erichthonius to be a devil.

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Romulus, it is said, introduced the four-horse chariot in Rome, and thus is guilty of inflicting idolatry on the city. But it is not only the inventors and builders of chariots, or the founders of games, who are to be denigrated for the promulgation of idolatry; the chariot drivers, too, deserve a share of the blame, for Tertullian sees evil even in the faction colors which they wore. He notes that originally, there were only two factions, designated by the color white, reminiscent of winter snows, and red, recalling the redness and heat of the summer sun. Later, when the green and blue factions were formed, their colors referenced, respectively, the green of the earth or springtime, and the blue of the sky or the sea. All of this is to be condemned, according to Tertullian, because anything dedicated to any aspect of the natural world is inherently a paean to idolatry. Chapter XI. In this chapter, Tertullian takes up the matter of the crown festivals of ancient Greece, which (again) he sees as founts of idolatry, because they were dedicated to the pagan Greek gods; they were attended by pagan priests; winners were awarded crowns (suggesting pagan rites); judges were drawn from the ranks of the pagan priests. Chapter XII. In this chapter, the author focuses on what he refers to as the most famous and popular spectacle of all, gladiatorial shows, beginning, as he did with chariot races, by briefly surveying their history. He writes that the Latin word for gladiatorial show, munus, means “service,” and that such shows were considered to be a service to the dead. (In Rome’s early days, gladiatorial combats were often staged in conjunction with funerary rites.) Gradually, these events evolved into entertainments, and contests with wild animals were offered, in addition to the bouts between human combatants. Tertullian refers to the amphitheater as a locus horrendus, a “horrible place,” where there are more references and dedications to pagan gods and demons than anywhere in Rome; it is a place filled with foul spirits, as many as there would be human spectators on a festival day. (And that would be a very large number indeed, considering that the Coliseum could seat roughly 40,000!) Chapter XV. Tertullian now changes the emphasis from history, etymology, architecture, and the like, to the human equation: what kinds of people attend the shows, how do they behave, and how does the experience affect them? He notes that God has instructed his believers to respect the Holy Spirit by approaching it in a peaceful, quiet, and gentle way. But these attributes can never be found in the arena or on the racetrack, where violence, not the Holy Spirit, reigns supreme. The dynamic of the competitions is heavily imbued with rivalry, pain, and anger; even if a spectator tries to enjoy the combats or the races disinterestedly, without a rooting interest in any gladiator or racing faction, it would still be inevitable that his darker emotions would be aroused by the scenes which he witnessed. Not only that, but even the upright, kind man can be tainted by the depravity of those around him—

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and this unwelcome type of association would certainly occur in the tightlypacked seating areas of the amphitheaters and circuses. Chapter XVI. Since, therefore, Christians are exhorted to shun insane partisanship, they must not patronize the shows and races, where insanity is the order of the day. Those who doubt this assertion need only to observe the racing fans as they enter the circus; although Tertullian does not specifically say so, it seems that he is describing a scene where the fans have been partying (the third century equivalent of tail-gating?) prior to the start of the race program, and thus some of them are already intoxicated as they make their way to their seats. They are also eager to place their bets, and although Tertullian makes no comment about this practice, the general tenor of the De Spectaculis would suggest that he considered gambling to be, at the least, a form of idolatry. As the first race of the day is about to get underway, the tense expectation of the crowd is palpable. They sit in suspense; their extreme excitement exemplifies their lack of sense. Finally, at last, the presiding magistrate drops the mappa (the white handkerchief signifying the start of the race) and the crowd responds. But Tertullian laments that they do not know what they are looking at; they think it is a piece of white cloth, whereas he sees in it an image of the devil raining down from on high. He gauges the mood and the behavior of the spectators as the race day unfolds: anger, disputatiousness, insanity, taunting, abuse, hate, applause, disappointment, elation—all these emotions and reactions are in evidence. God, he notes, would not be pleased about the expressions of hatred, and the cursing. Nothing in Roman society is more pitiless than the circus, no group of people more merciless than the spectators, who turn on each other in rage or despair, depending on the outcome of a particular race. Chapter XVIII. Tertullian concedes that stadiums are referenced in Scripture, and especially in the letters of St. Paul. But no one, he contends, could condone the mayhem that occurs within the confines of the stadium: the punching, the kicking, the fisticuffs, and the assaults on the human face, which was created in the image of God. A good Christian could never endorse the kinds of pointless training exercises, nor support the ostentatious displays of physical prowess, nor find favor with bodybuilding routines, which try to improve upon that which God has already created. He refers to wrestling as the diaboli negotium, the “business of the devil,” seeing in the holds, the grips, the moves, and the feints of wrestling images of the serpent who seduced Eve in the Garden of Eden. Chapter XXI. In this chapter, and the next, Tertullian writes scathingly about the behavioral inconsistencies exhibited by aficionados of the stadium, arena, and the circus. The same man who will try to play the role of peacemaker by intervening in a private dispute or a quarrel will cheer on combatants in

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the arena using deadly force against each other. The same man who trembles at the sight of someone who died a natural death will be bothered very little by the sights in the amphitheater, where men are dismembered and die gruesome deaths. The same man who decries murder in societal life is perfectly at ease encouraging a gladiator to commit murder in the arena. Chapter XXII. Tertullian continues to examine the double standards not only of the spectators, but especially of those who sponsor the contests: Take even those who give and who administer the spectacles; look at their attitude to the charioteers, players, athletes, gladiators…. [O]n one and the same account they glorify them and they degrade and diminish them. Yes, further, they openly condemn them to disgrace and civil degradation; they keep them religiously excluded from council chamber, rostrum, senate, knighthood, and every other kind of office and a good many distinctions. The perversity of it! They love whom they lower. They despise whom they approve. The art they glorify, the artist they disgrace. What sort of judgment is this—that a man should be blackened for what he shines in? Yes, and what a confession that things are evil, when their authors at the top of their popularity are in disgrace! (tr. Glover).

Chapter XXX. In his concluding chapter, Tertullian relishes the thought of the true spectacle: the coming of the Lord, and the Judgment Day. It is then that actors, charioteers, athletes of all kinds will be hurled into the fire of condemnation and death. Sources: May, Herbert G. and Bruce M. Metzger (eds.), The Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha. New York: Oxford University Press, 1965. Glover, T. R. (tr.). Tertullian: Apology; De Spectaculis. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1931.

Thracians (Thraex; pl. Thraces). A Thracian gladiator was equipped with a visored helmet, full length arm wrappings, a small shield (either round or square), waist-to-knee leg wrappings, and knee-to-foot shin guards. According to the historian Ludwig Friedlaender, the term “Thracian gladiator” is first mentioned by the first century bce orator Cicero, in his Sixth Philippic. In this virulent speech, Cicero attacks the politician (and brother of Mark Antony) Lucius Antonius by calling him a murmillo who mercilessly slit the throat of a Thracian gladiator, who happened to be a friend. Cicero references this throat-cutting incident again in his Seventh Philippic, where he excoriates Lucius Antonius for commandeering a friend to put on the armor of a Thracian gladiator, and then cutting his throat as he tried to flee from the fight. The orator asks his listeners to consider what might happen if Antonius gains political power in Rome; what would he do to his opponents, if he is even willing to ruthlessly sacrifice his friends? The fourth century ce historian Ausonius, in a short essay consisting of a series of questions and answers, asks what kind of gladiator is paired up with a murmillo. The answer: a Thra-

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cian, whom Ausonius further identifies as aequimanus, “ambidextrous.” These references suggest that Thracian gladiators were often matched against murmillones in gladiatorial contests. The biographer Suetonius writes that the emperor Domitian (reigned 81–96 ce) once forced a citizen to be hauled out of his seat at the amphitheater and thrown to the beasts. The victim’s crime? He had commented that a Thracian gladiator was the equal of a murmillo, but not an equal of the show’s sponsor (i.e., Domitian); apparently, Domitian interpreted that expression of opinion to be disparaging to Thracian gladiators, his favorites. As an additional insult to the unfortunate man, the emperor ordered a placard to be displayed, possibly around his neck, with these words: Impie locutus parmularius: “[This] Thracian fan spoke disrespectfully.” (The word parmularius is taken to mean “someone who is a fan of a gladiator equipped with a parmula,” a small shield carried by Thracian gladiators. The first century ce orator and author Quintilian writes of a man who, when asked what kind of rhetorical style he favored, replied that he was a parmularius, a response which does not logically follow. The editor of the passage, H. E. Butler, explains the inconsistency thus: “I give all my [support] to the men armed with the [parmula]…. Such contests of the amphitheater interest me far more than the contests between rival schools of rhetoric.” The biographer Suetonius indicates that the first century ce emperors Caligula and Titus were both parmularii.) On the other hand, Suetonius describes a kind of impromptu bout in which the emperor Caligula (reigned 37–41 ce) forced a centurion by the name of Aesius Proculus to fight first against a Thracian, and next against a hoplomachus, a kind of heavily-armed gladiator perhaps equivalent to a secutor. When Proculus managed to defeat both, the incensed emperor ordered him to be dragged through the streets and then executed. (Suetonius does not specify whether the unfortunate draftee was required to be equipped in the manner of any of the gladiatorial classifications; perhaps he was compelled to fight without any armor at all.) The dress and armament of Thracian gladiators is best illustrated in works of art. A series of stucco reliefs from the tomb of Scaurus at Pompeii shows activities of various types of gladiators, several of whom can be identified as Thracians. From this it is clear that the Thracian gladiators wore visored helmets; had full length protective armor (manicae), at least on the right arm; carried a small shield (parmula, as above), either round or square; had manicae on the legs from waist to knee; were equipped with sometimes elaborate knee to foot shin guards (ocreae). The social historian Ludwig Friedlaender provides a detailed description of the weaponry used by Thracian gladiators. He writes that their customary offensive weapon was the sica, a short, curved sword, and apparently a weapon closely associated with people from Thrace; the poet Juvenal refers

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to it as a falx supina, (“inverted sickle”), and dentium sicae (“boar’s tusks”) by the natural scientist Pliny the Elder. There are a number of inscriptions pertaining to Thracian gladiators. CIL 6.10197, a marble funerary monument, contains a depiction of a gladiator armed with a sword and shield above the text of the inscription. The text offers nothing particularly remarkable except the phrase armatura Thraecum universa: “the whole guild of the Thracians.” This suggests that a certain amount of camaraderie (perhaps unexpected) existed in the rough and brutal world of a Roman gladiator. CIL 10.7364 is an epitaph on a monument erected by the eques Speces in honor of his fellow slave Callisto, a Thracian gladiator. His monument contains the abbreviation v. XX, which may mean either vicit vicies, “he won twenty times,” or vixit XX (annis), “he lived twenty years.” Some gladiators seemed to have considered themselves particularly attractive to women. The testimony of some Pompeian graffiti concerns a certain Thracian gladiator by the name of Celadus. In CIL 4.4345, Celadus is described as puellarum decus, “the ornament of the girls.” The same man is the subject of CIL 4.4342, where he is identified as suspirium puellarum, “the heartthrob of the girls.” Sources: Ausonius, Technopaegnion, 12. Butler, H. E. The Institutio Oratoria of Quintilian. Volume I. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printed 1920 Cicero, Philippics 6.13, 7.17. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II. Juvenal, Satire 8. Quintilian, The Institutes of Oratory 2.11. Suetonius, Life of Caligula 35; Life of Domitian 10.

Trajan as hunter and sailor. In his lengthy panegyric on the emperor Trajan (reigned 98–117 ce), the epistler/diplomat Pliny the Younger notes that Trajan was such a hard worker that his only diversion from his official duties was a different kind of work: hunting. Trajan was apparently a very aggressive, physically active hunter; Pliny recounts his modus operandi: “to range the forests, drive wild beasts from their lairs, scale vast mountain heights, and set foot on rocky crags” (tr. Radice), all done without any assistance from servants or attendants. And yet even after engaging in this sort of this vigorous exercise, the emperor still did not neglect visiting woodland shrines, to pay his respects to the deities which roamed the forests. Trajan developed his hunting ethic as a young man, which greatly contributed to his successes later in life. Skill in hunting depended on foot speed, courage, strength, and all of these were attributes which Trajan later displayed as emperor. And his hunting ability also had an economic benefit, by diminishing the number of wild animals that sometimes ravaged the herds and fields of Italian farmers.

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Pliny is well aware that previous emperors also claimed to be scourges of wild beasts, and that they would display their false prowess in contrived settings, like the mock hunts in circuses and amphitheaters, where the animals were already in captivity. But Trajan actually engaged in real hunting, by penetrating the woods, tracking his prey, and making the kill or the capture, in an uncontrolled environment. Pliny writes that Trajan had the same hands-on attitude when he went to sea. Instead of simply giving orders to the sailors, and letting them do the physically demanding work, he himself would take the wheel, contend with the wind and the waves, and even pull an oar. This personal investment in the management of a ship greatly contrasts with many of Trajan’s predecessors, who were protected from the elements on sea voyages, and thus were almost like captives in their own ships. This kind of unseemly behavior on their part was bad enough if observed only by fellow Romans, but worse still, if enemy soldiers should become aware of it. Pliny admits that he has never been impressed by individuals with heavily-muscled physiques, unless those individuals are also strong-minded, able to control their passions, and are never distracted by leisure, wealth, or unhealthy lifestyles. He wonders what Trajan does for relaxation, if his recreational interests require so great an expenditure of effort and energy. He asserts that a man’s voluptates—his pleasures, his leisure-time activities— reveal his true character, and he notes that a distressingly great number of Trajan’s predecessors whiled away their spare time in dishonorable pursuits such as gambling, prostitution, and partying. Sources: Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 81, 82. Radice, Betty (tr.). Pliny: Letters and Panegyricus. Volume II [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, 1969.

Troy Game. The Troy Game (Troiae Ludus, in Latin) was a highly choreographed, ceremonial mock fight on horseback, performed by young men of high rank and reputation, usually in the Circus Maximus. The Troy Game tradition was thought by the Romans to date to the time of Aeneas, where it was first performed at the funeral games for Anchises (Aeneas’ father). The fullest description of the Troy Game can be found in Virgil’s Aeneid, Book Five: The funeral games were concluding—the final event, an archery contest, had ended—when Aeneas, the sponsor of the games, instructed the guardian of his son Iulus (also called Ascanius) to inform Iulus that the time had come for the Troy Game to commence. Then he ordered the crowd of spectators to back away from the meadow where they were seated, to provide ample space for the young riders. The young men rode in on their spirited ponies, in a tight formation.

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They were crowned with garlands, and armed with iron-tipped spears. Some of them were equipped with arrow-filled quivers; all of them wore golden torques (a military decoration of twisted or braided metal, worn on the chest). The riders were divided into three squadrons, 12 riders per squadron. The three leaders of the squadrons were Priam, grandson of the legendary king of Troy, of the same name; Atys, a close friend of Iulus; and Iulus, the most handsome of them all. Iulus rode a Carthaginian stallion, the other two, Sicilian horses. All the squadrons approached the crowd, to enable the spectators—and especially the fathers—to gain a good look at the young men in all their finery. They completed one full circle together, and then, hearing the signal (a crack of the whip), they divided into their three squadrons once again. The three groups galloped in different directions, then back towards one another, and charged, with lances and spears in hand. Their horses made intricate, choreographed patterns, as they carried their riders through charges, retreats, surrenders, and peacemaking. Virgil writes that the entire spectacle conjured up images of the famous Labyrinth in Crete, a “bewildering work of craft in a thousand ways, where the tokens of the course were confused by the indiscoverable and irretraceable maze” (tr. Fairclough). In like manner, the Trojan youth rode their horses joyfully, like dolphins swimming and leaping through the sea. Later, when Iulus had grown to manhood, and founded Alba Longa (the ancestral city of the Romans), he remembered the tradition of the Troy Game, and passed it along to the younger generation, who in turn, did the same, and so forth, all the way to Virgil’s time, when the Troy Game continued to be celebrated. Several exhibitions of the Troy Game in historical times have been recorded. The earliest of these occurred in 81 bce, when the general Lucius Cornelius Sulla organized shows to celebrate his newly-won dictatorial powers. He gathered together suitable candidates for participation in the event, and then selected two leaders. One of these was the son (by a previous marriage) of his wife, Caecilia Metella; no one objected to that choice. But the other one, a nephew of an (apparently) unpopular public figure by the name of Sextus Pompeius, was roundly rejected by the boys. They rebelled, stating that they would not follow his leadership. Sulla asked them to name someone whom they would accept, and they unanimously yelled out “Cato!” So both Sulla and the young Sextus yielded to the will of the other riders, and the 14year-old Marcus Porcius Cato was chosen. (As an adult, this Cato—called Cato the Younger, to distinguish him from his famous great-grandfather of the same name—became a very prominent politician.) In 45 bce, Julius Caesar sponsored a number of contests, combats, and other entertainments, including a rendition of the Troy Game in which two groups of riders performed, one composed of older boys, the other, younger boys. The Troy Game was performed in 29 bce, as part of the festivities surrounding the dedication

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of a shrine to Julius Caesar. In his youth, the future emperor Tiberius not only presided over a series of spectacles, but he also participated, as one of the riders in the Troy Game. At the consecration of the Theater of Marcellus in 13 bce, the emperor Augustus decreed a reenactment of the Troy Game; his grandson Gaius was one of the featured riders. Six hundred wild African beasts were also killed in conjunction with the dedication. Although the Troy Game may not seem to be particularly dangerous, injuries to the riders could and did occur. The most notable of these happened in an exhibition of the Troy Game during the reign of Augustus. A young man by the name of Aeserninus, the grandson of a noted literary critic and orator, Asinius Pollio, sustained a broken leg during the exhibition. Pollio angrily denounced the practice of using youngsters for such a potentially dangerous activity, and Augustus thereupon abandoned it. Sources: Dio Cassius, Roman History 51, 54. Plutarch, Life of Cato the Younger 3. Suetonius, Life of Augustus 43. Life of Julius Caesar 39; Life of Tiberius 6. Virgil, Aeneid 5. Fairclough, H. Rushton (tr.), Virgil: Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid. Volume I [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, first printing 1916.

Two gladiatorial familiae. The following two inscriptions contain the names of some of the members of two gladiatorial familiae. The two tablets were both discovered in Venusia, a southern Italian town famous as the birthplace of the poet Horace in 65 bce. Because of differences in the writing styles, they are believed to record the members of two different familiae. However, there is no way to accurately date either of them. The first inscription, CIL 9.465: The gladiatorial family of Salvius Capito lies here: The eques Mandatus, (a slave of) Rabirius 3 > 2 The Thracians Secundus, (a slave of) Pompeius 2 > 2, (and) Caius Masonius 7 > 4 Phileros, (a slave of) Domitius 12 > 11 Optatus, (a slave of) Salvius, a recruit The murmillones Quintus Cleppius, a recruit, (and) [first name not extant] Julius, a recruit The retiarius [name not extant], a recruit (Note: For an explanation of the numbers following some names, e.g., 3 > 2, see below.) In his eleventh Satire, the poet Juvenal characterized a typical gladiatorial school as a miscellanea, a word literally meaning a “mixture,” or a “hodgepodge.” That term would clearly apply to the familia of Salvius Capito. For

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example, four classifications of gladiators are listed in the surviving portion of the inscription: an eques, two Thracians, two murmillones, and a retiarius. Many of the gladiators were new recruits; most were slaves, but none of them (with the exception of Optatus) belonged to Capito. The significance of the numerals appearing behind the names of several of the gladiators has been a matter of some debate; in particular, the meaning of the symbol > seems elusive. The two numbers most likely refer to some combination of matches, victories, or crowns awarded for victories. Interestingly, the most successful member of the familia, Phileros, with eleven wins, was apparently not assigned to a gladiatorial classification, or at least if he was so assigned, that information is not included on the inscription. Very similar to this inscription is CIL 9.466, a longer document, featuring more names and classifications than 9.465. The upper portion of the stone is missing, so presumably, this familia had even more members than the ones listed below: Oceanus, (slave of) Avilius, a recruit Sagittarius Dorus, (slave of) Piso 6 > 4 Veles Mycter, (slave of) Ofilius 2 Hoplomachus Phaeder, (slave of) Avilius, a recruit Thracians Donatus, (slave of) Nero 12 > 8 Hilarus, (slave of) Arruntius 7 > 5 Aquila, (slave of) Piso 12 > 6 Quartius, (slave of) Munilius 1 Caius Perpernius, a recruit Murmillones Amicus, (slave of) Munilius 1 Quintus Fabius 5 > 3 Eleuther, (slave of) Munilius 1 Caius Memmius, 3 > 2 Anteros, (slave of) Munilius 2 Atlans, (slave of) Donatus 4 > 1 Essedarius Inclutus, (slave of) Arruntius 5 > 2 Samnite Strabo, (slave of) Donatus 3 > 2 Retiarius Caius Clodius 2 Scissor Marcus Caecilius, a recruit Gallus Quintus Granius, a recruit This inscription represents even more fully than the previous one the mixed nature (Juvenal’s miscellanea) of a typical gladiatorial familia; no fewer than ten classifications are represented: sagittarius; veles; hoplomachus; Thracian; murmillo; essedarius; Samnite; retiarius; scissor; Gallus. Some individuals are clearly delineated as slaves; the others were presumably free men who volunteered to fight as gladiators. Some have two numerals behind their

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names, as in the earlier inscriptions, but several others have only one. Apparently, the one number refers to numbers of bouts (not wins), but it is difficult to know with certainty. Sources: Juvenal, Satire 11. CIL 9.465. CIL 9.466.

Unnamed(?) retiarius. Translation of the very fragmentary inscription CIL 3.12925: “[In honor of?] Rapidus[?] the retiarius … from Aquileia [lived] years, died in Como Belluno[?] in his sixth match … he died in surgery[?]…” CIL 3.12925 is apparently in honor of a retiarius whose name might be Rapidus—the word rapido appears in the first line, adjacent to retiarius—or rapido might also be understood as the Latin adjective meaning “quick,” with the gladiator’s true name recorded in the missing portion of the inscription. If the word is interpreted as an adjective (and not as the gladiator’s name), then it would represent confirmation of the contention that retiarii were generally the most mobile of all gladiators. It might be inferred that rapido (or rapidus in the nominative form) in the gladiatorial context means “quickfooted,” or a man “with quick hands.” In the second line of the inscription, it is revealed that the unknown gladiator hailed from the town of Aquileia, in northern Italy. The fragmentary ann[is] also appears in the second line. The word means “years”; undoubtedly, the missing portion of the text would have contained a numeral indicating the man’s age at death. The translation of the third line, “died in Como Belluno,” is speculative. However, if correct in its assumption that it indicates the place in northern Italy where the gladiator died, this would be one of the few, and perhaps only, inscriptions in which the location of a gladiator’s demise is mentioned. The cryptic phrase decina dec appears in the fifth line of the inscription; it could be restored to in medicina decessit, meaning “he died in surgery.” If correct, this medical effort to save the life of a badly injured gladiator would be quite an interesting revelation. The modern assumption has been that wounded gladiators were dispatched with no more emotion than one would shoot an injured packhorse. J. P. V. D. Balsdon, however, writes: “At the end of bouts in which the victim was spared and no killing was done, the wounded were rushed to hospital.” He cites this inscription as one of his sources. In the last surviving line of the inscription, the letters edic appear. A restoration of those letters to the word medicus (Latin for “physician”) would clearly be in keeping with the content of the previous line. Although this inscription is very fragmentary, with much important information missing, it still offers some interesting possibilities about medical care and procedures for wounded gladiators. Sources: CIL 3.12925. Balsdon, J. P. V. D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York, St. Louis, San Francisco: McGraw-Hill, 1969.

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Venatio (pl. venationes). The term venatio (“hunt”; venator: “hunter”) applied to shows in which wild animals were pitted against each other in the arena, or when human opponents clashed with them. The first such show, featuring lions and panthers, was sponsored by the Roman consul Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, in 186 ce. Nobilior’s games covered ten days, and presented contests of Greek athletes, and many religious observances, in addition to the animal hunts. After that initial show, exhibitions involving animals became more frequent and more lavish. If produced in conjunction with gladiatorial shows, they usually occurred in the morning, with the gladiatorial combats to follow, later in the day. Sometimes the beasts were merely put on display, but more often, they were hunted, either by each other, or by trained or untrained men. In one of his moral epistles, the first century ce philosopher Seneca describes the eccentricities of a local lay-about, a young man of leisure and idleness, who is trying to decide whether to become a gladiator or an animal baiter; in either case, it could be assumed, he would receive some training. In his address to the Christian martyrs, the theologian and philosopher Tertullian (ca. 160–225 ce) notes that some venatores wear their scars and bite marks as badges of honor; they actually believe that these disfigurements render them more handsome! Over the years, a huge variety of animals was displayed at one time or another in the amphitheater or the circus: lions, tigers, panthers, leopards, bears, deer, boars, bulls, cranes, even exotic creatures, like elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, apes, giraffes, ostriches, and crocodiles. The first century bce politician/generals Pompey and Caesar were unrivalled in the munificence of the shows they sponsored. Pompey displayed 18 elephants, over 500 lions, and over 400 other African beasts, while Caesar tried to match him, with 400 lions and 40 elephants. Caesar also upped the ante in terms of the expensive splendor of his shows: the first century ce natural historian Pliny the Elder notes that Caesar was the first one to use silver for the appurtenances of the arena (in 65, for the funeral of his father). It was also the first occasion in which criminals who were forced to perform as beast hunters used equipment that was made entirely of silver. But possibly the most ostentatious animal hunt occurred in 80 ce, when the Coliseum was dedicated. According to the biographer Suetonius, 5,000 animals, of all kinds, were put on display in just one day; the historian Dio Cassius adds that there were fights featuring cranes and elephants, and that 9,000 animals, both wild and domesticated, were killed. Many of the animals used in venationes came from Africa, so much so that they apparently became virtually extinct there. So Roman managers looked to Asia as a new supplier of beasts for the hunts. Lions, tigers, panthers, and leopards came to Rome from Asia in great profusion. They were usually

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transported by sea, and there were specially constructed docking areas and temporary cages in the Campus Martius to house them. But sometimes overland caravans of ox-drawn wagons laden with cages were also employed. Sources: Dio Cassius, 66.25. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II (translated by J. H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, reissued 1965. Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities, s.v. venationes Livy, History of Rome 39.22. Pliny the Elder, 33.53. Seneca, Moral Epistles, 87. Suetonius, Life of Titus, 7. Tertullian, The Address to the Martyrs, 5

Wounded in dignity only: An embarrassing moment for a fisherman. The orator Cicero (106–43 bce) recounts a (probably fictional) story of one Gaius Canius, a respectable, educated man, who once made a trip to the city of Syracuse, in Sicily. He was particularly interested in the possibility of buying a vacation home there, where he could relax, and be free of interruptions from pesky people whom he did not wish to see. The news of his interest in Syracusan real estate made the rounds. A local banker by the name of Pythius heard about it, and told Canius that he just happened to have some property, a comfortable little villa that might perfectly suit him, although it was not for sale. However, he invited Canius to visit the villa on the following day, and to join him at dinner there. Canius accepted the invitation. But Canius had a trick up his toga sleeve. Given his connections in the commercial life of the city, and his acquaintance with a number of professional fishermen, he called them together and asked a favor of them: would they do all their fishing the next day in the waters bordering the villa where he would be entertaining Canius? On the following day, Canius appeared at Pythius’ villa at the appointed hour. Pythius had seen to it that his guest would enjoy an elegant dinner. The meal was served in a room overlooking the water, and as Canius gazed out at the view, he noticed a whole flotilla of fishing boats gathered there. And they were obviously having good luck; one by one, the fishermen carried their catches up to the villa, and presented them to Pythius. Poor Canius was amazed! He asked his host what it all meant. He wondered where all those fishing boats came from, and how all the men could be so successful in their fish- catching endeavors. Pythius chuckled and explained to Canius that his villa happened to be located on the shores of the best fishing hole in all of Syracuse, and that any fisherman hoping for a big haul would have to try for it right in that place. Canius, who was now very eager to buy the villa, took the bait. He begged Pythius to sell it to him. Pythius played it cool, at first refusing to entertain any entreaties to sell. But Canius persisted, and eventually Pythius gave in. Since Canius was a rich man, he offered not only to buy the villa (at Pythius’

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price), but also the grounds, and all of the villa’s furnishings and equipment. Pythius reluctantly agreed; the deal was done. Canius was eager to show off his new purchase to his friends, so on the next day, he invited a group of them to join him for a day of relaxation, and possibly, a little fishing. Canius himself arrived early, to ensure that all of the day’s preparations were in place. But when he looked out at the water, he saw nary a boat. Not a sign of any fishing activity anywhere. He was understandably puzzled by this turn of events, so he asked a neighbor if all the fishermen were taking a day off. The neighbor replied that he did not think so, and besides, he had never seen anyone fishing in that locale before, so he did not understand why so many boats had descended on that part of the sea on the previous day. Canius was furious; he knew that he had been hoodwinked. But there was nothing he could do about it. Fishing is sometimes a dangerous sport, but more often, an embarrassing one, as the unfortunate Canius found out. Source: Cicero, On Duties 3.14.

Appendix I. Glossary of Terms A veste gladiatoria: A tailor, specifically, a tailor employed by a gladiatorial school, whose job was to fabricate and maintain the costuming worn by the gladiators. Ad bestias mittere: Literally, “to send to the beasts.” The term was applied to people condemned to the amphitheater, there to contend with wild animals. Ad dictata pugnare: Literally, “to fight according to commands,” equivalent to the English expression “according to the book.” The term referred to any gladiator who fought a boring match, one which lacked excitement or creativity. Aequimanus: A word which literally means “equal-handed”; it refers to an ambidextrous gladiator; cf. scaevus, a left-handed gladiator. Both words are rarely seen; undoubtedly, the overwhelming majority of gladiators were right-handed. Agitator: The Latin word for charioteer. The word auriga is also sometimes used, but this word appears to be the favored term of poets. Agitator miliarius, “thousand [win] driver,” was an honorary title bestowed upon a charioteer who had won one thousand, or more, races in his career. Alipta: This term can refer either to a masseur, or to a trainer of wrestlers or other athletes. Andabata: A poorly attested classification of gladiator. Andabatae were heavily armed and apparently fought while wearing helmets which impeded their vision, or possibly even made it impossible for them to see. Some historians think that they fought from horseback; others dispute this contention. Arena: The floor of an amphitheater or a chariot race track, where the competitions occur. Arena is a Latin word meaning “sand,” no doubt a reference to the (partial?) composition of the material used on the floor of those facilities. Armatura: A troop or guild of gladiators. Assiforanus: An unusual and rarely seen word. It might have been formed from the Latin words asses (small coins, roughly analogous to pennies) and forum (downtown area of a city). It may refer to a touring gladiatorial show held in the

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forum of a town. Spectators would be charged a nominal admission fee (one as, or a few asses). Athletae: Literally, “athletes,” a sort of generic term referring to non-gladiatorial competitors in the amphitheaters. They were often Greek imports, usually boxers or wrestlers. Auctoramentum: a contract which had to be signed by a gladiatorial recruit, by which he lost his legal rights, and became virtually a slave of the lanista with whom he had entered into the contractual arrangement. Auctoratus: A relatively rare word; it seems to refer to a hired gladiator, especially one who has been newly or recently recruited. Balteus: An aisle providing access to seats in an amphitheater or a circus. Bestiarius: A Roman beast fighter; one who fought against wild animals in mock beast hunts in the amphitheater. Bestiarii were considered less skilled than their more professional counterparts, the venatores. Biga: A chariot pulled by two horses. Bigarius: A driver of two-horse chariots. Burdubasta: A term of abuse for a substandard gladiator, apparently seen only in Petronius’ Trimalchio’s Dinner. An editor of Petronius, Martin S. Smith, suggests that burdu derives from a word meaning “mule,” and basta from a word meaning “stave.” Hence, the term burdubasta “could possibly have been used figuratively as the equivalent of our phrase ‘thin as a [bean pole].’” Caenula: A word meaning “little meal.” The emperor Claudius sometimes provided caenulae to the spectators at the games, prior to the start of the competitions, perhaps a forerunner of the modern custom of tailgating. Calx: Literal meaning: chalk. A chalk line in the circus that served as the finish line in a chariot race. Cancellus: A kind of railing or barrier, in the seating areas of circuses. The cancellus was apparently used to separate one row from the next. Carcer (pl. carceres): A word literally meaning jail cell, but in the context of the chariot race track, it refers to the starting gates for the horses and chariots. The Circus Maximus was equipped with 12 carceres. In one of his poems (Amores 3.2), Ovid uses the phrase aequus carcer, “equal starting gate,” to indicate that each of the 12 carceres was placed at the same distance from the spina’s first turn, thus affording all 12 drivers an “equal” chance to get to that point first. Cavea: The place in a circus or an amphitheater where the spectators sat; the seating area. Ceroma: A layer of soft mud used to form the floor of a wrestling ring and, by extension, a wrestler. A passage in Juvenal’s third Satire implies that the word can also apply to a kind of oil with which wrestlers anointed themselves.

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Certamen: An athletic contest. Certamen plantae (literally, a “contest of the sole of the foot”) was a phrase used for a foot race. Certamina binarum: Doubles races, pertaining to a chariot race in which two charioteers from the same faction worked together, hopefully ensuring that one of them would win. Certamina quaternarum: Quadruple races, pertaining to a chariot race in which four charioteers from the same faction worked together to facilitate victory for one of them. Quadruple races were undoubtedly the rarest form, especially since the math indicates that at least one faction could not have entered any chariots in such a race, given that the Circus Maximus, and other venues, had only 12 starting gates. Certamina singularum: Singles races, pertaining to a chariot race in which each charioteer tried to win on his own, without tactical cooperation with other members of the same faction who would be competing in the same race. Singles races were apparently the most common form, and the most popular. Certamina ternarum: Triples races, pertaining to a chariot race in which three charioteers from the same faction worked together to assist one of their number to win. Conditor: According to the editors of the Oxford Latin Dictionary, this word means “organizer” in a charioteering context. It could refer to a faction manager (less likely), or to an equipment manager (more likely). But the exact meaning is uncertain. The equally rare word succonditor most probably refers to the assistant of a conditor. Cornicen (pl. cornicines): A musician who played a cornu (see next entry) at gladiatorial shows; a trumpeter. Cornu: A curved horn, used to provide musical accompaniment before and during gladiatorial shows. Crown festivals: Although the Romans did not exhibit a high degree of enthusiasm for Greek-style sports, there are a few instances of Roman athletes competing in one or more of the four longstanding “crown festivals” of Greece: the Olympic, Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean Games. They were termed “crown” festivals, because the champions received only a leaf crown as their prize, not money or valuable commodities. Crupellarius: Literally, “a fighter encased in armor from head to foot.” (Oxford Latin Dictionary). The word is used by the historian Tacitus in connection with Gallic slaves destined to become gladiators. Cryptarius: An overseer in charge of the underground chambers (crypta) where gladiators may have customarily trained. Cursor: A runner in a foot race. The word also applies to a minor functionary in the gladiatorial schools, and apparently means messenger or courier in that context.

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Damnatus ad gladium: “Condemned to the sword [i.e., to death].” A term associated with condemned criminals who were forced to fight as gladiators. Decretoria pugna: A “decisive” bout in the amphitheater, fought by trained professional gladiators, contrasting with a lusoria pugna, a warm-up match, fought by novices, using non-lethal weapons. On a typical day in the amphitheater, the lusoriae pugnae would precede the serious, decisive bouts. Decuria: Literally, a group of ten men organized for a specific purpose. In the gladiatorial context, the word refers to groupings of ten gladiators within a familia. Designator (pl. designatores; the word is sometimes spelled dissignator): An official who supervised seating in the amphitheaters, during gladiatorial shows. Similar to an usher. Dimachaerus: A very rare word, seen only in inscriptions; according to the Oxford Latin Dictionary, it means “a gladiator who fights with two swords.” Dispensator: An employee of the gladiatorial school who served as a financial official; a bookkeeper. Doctor: A trainer, especially of gladiators. (This word must be distinguished from the modern meaning; in the gladiatorial context, a doctor was not a medical practitioner.) Doubles races: See certamina binarum. Editor: One who produces public entertainments. Endromis: A thick shawl or wrap, analogous to a warm-up jacket, worn by gladiators and other athletes, before and after their matches. Equi inominales: A rare and unusual term, literally meaning “ill-omened horses.” It may refer either to a charioteer or his horses, and the possibility that he or they are under the influence of some sort of curse or magic spell. Equus anagonus: In chariot racing, a horse that had never raced before; a “rookie” horse. It was apparently a singular distinction for a charioteer to win a race using an equus anagonus. Equus centenarius: A chariot race horse credited with 100 wins. Equus ducenarius: A chariot race horse credited with 200 wins. Eripuit et vicit (literal translation: “He seized the lead [at the end of the race?] and won.”) A strategy employed by charioteers whereby they try to win on the homestretch, at the very end, after (apparently) running behind the leader for most of the race. Essedarius: A kind of gladiator who fought while riding in a chariot, along with a driver; one man apparently drove the chariot, while his partner engaged in the actual fighting. Female chariot fighters—essedariae—were not unknown. Faction (factio in Latin): an official racing company that hired drivers, and pro-

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vided horses and equipment for the races. There were four factions: Red, White, Blue, Green. The word grex (“crowd”; “herd”) is also sometimes used for the racing factions, but less frequently than factio. Familia (pl. familiae): The basic organizational unit of Roman gladiators, and occasionally charioteers. Ferrum recipere: Literally, “to receive the sword,” or in the gladiatorial context, “to receive the death blow.” Spectators would sometimes cry out this gruesome command for a defeated gladiator to expose his chest to the sword wielded by his victorious opponent. Flagellum: A whip carried by charioteers, used for “encouraging” their horses. The word verber (pl. verbera) is also sometimes used in a charioteering context. Follis pugilatorius: An inflated ball used by boxers as a punching bag. Gallus: A kind of gladiator who wore Gallic armor. Gladiator (in the literal sense): A professional sword-fighter who engaged in combats in amphitheaters and other venues, for public entertainment. The word is derived from gladius, Latin for “sword.” Gladiator (in the metaphorical sense): An assassin or cutthroat, often used as a pejorative term, especially by Cicero. Gladiatorium. The salary paid to an individual who volunteered to fight as gladiator. Gradus: A tier or row of seats in an amphitheater or circus. Gregarius: an inferior gladiator, one drawn from the unclassified, common crowd of gladiators, and one who does not possess any special skills or training. Harenarius: Two definitions are apparently possible. The Oxford Latin Dictionary defines the term as an attendant in the amphitheater, whereas the historian Thomas Wiedemann suggests that it was a legal term applied to a defendant who was sentenced to fight as a gladiator. Hippago (pl. hippagines): A kind of sailing vessel specially constructed to transport race horses from Africa or Spain to Italy. Hoplomachus, sometimes written oplomachus: A relatively rare word, referring to a kind of heavily-armed gladiator. Hortator: Literally, someone who encourages or urges. In the charioteering context, a hortator was a track attendant who urged on the horses, using both body language, and verbal cries; the ancient Roman version of a cheerleader. Introjugus: A word that literally means “yoked on the inside.” In chariot racing, it refers to either of the two horses in a four-horse team that were tethered directly to the yoke; the yoke horses (as opposed to the two outer horses, the trace horses). The yoke horses were generally considered to be the more important members of the team.

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Jaculum: A throwing spear, used in hunting. Lancea: A long, light spear, used in hunting. Lanista: The overseer or general manager of a gladiatorial school. The word is sometimes also used to refer to a trainer of gladiators. Libellus munerarius: A notebook used to list the names of gladiators who would be competing in an upcoming show, somewhat similar to scorecards available to spectators at modern sporting events. Linea: A line drawn on the bleacher seats in the circuses and amphitheaters, designating the space that each spectator could occupy. Locarius: An unusual term of uncertain meaning, etymologically connected with the word locus, “seat” or “place.” Some believe that a locarius was a kind of entrepreneur who made advance purchases of prime seating areas in a circus or amphitheater, and then sold those seats on the day of the event, but at highly inflated prices. As such, a locarius might be considered the ancient equivalent of a ticket scalper. Locus: A seat in the circus or the amphitheater. Lora dare: Literally, “to give the reins.” In Roman chariot racing, the phrase refers to a charioteering technique in which the driver eases up somewhat on the reins, and lets the horses dictate the pace and direction. The Oxford Latin Dictionary editors suggest a meaning of “give him [i.e., a horse] his head.” The opposite idea—to pull back on the reins and bring the horses under control—is expressed by the phrase lora revocare or habenas revocare: literally, “to call back the reins.” Ludia: The wife, mistress, or girlfriend of a gladiator. Ludus: A school and training facility for gladiators. The most famous of these schools was the Ludus Magnus: “Great School” in Rome, built in the first century ce. Maenianum: A projecting balcony constructed to provide spectators a vantage point from which to view gladiatorial shows. Later, when permanent venues (amphitheaters) were built for the shows, a raised, sloped bank of seats was also called a maenianum. The Coliseum in Rome features four sections of maeniana. Manicarius: A craftsman who specialized in the fabrication of manicae, the protective armor covering a gladiator’s hand and forearm (but usually only one arm, the one which he used for wielding his weapon). Mappa: A white handkerchief. In chariot racing, the magistrate presiding over the races dropped a mappa (mittere mappam, “to throw down the napkin”) to signal the start of a race. Meridianus: A word which literally means “noon,” or “occurring at noon.” In the context of the amphitheater, it refers to gladiators who fought at noon; usually these gladiators fought quasi-mock bouts, like warm-ups for the more serious matches that followed.

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Metae: Three conical projections at either end of a spina, in a chariot racetrack. Most likely their function was to provide charioteers with a visual marker to indicate the distance to the upcoming turn. Missus: This word literally means “sent.” It can refer to the start of a chariot race (when the horses and chariots are “sent” from the starting gate), and to the discharge from service of a gladiator. Morator: A word meaning “one who delays.” It applies to a racetrack attendant whose duties are uncertain; the editors of the Oxford Latin Dictionary suggest that moratores (pl.) may have been responsible for holding back the horses just prior to the beginning of the race, to prevent false starts. Munerarius: One who sponsors and puts on gladiatorial shows. It derives from munus, the word for a gladiatorial show. (The basic meaning of the word munus is “gift,” or “public service,” thus illustrating the connection between running for, and holding, public office, and the obligation of office-holders to “give” gladiatorial shows to the people.) Murmillo (sometimes also called Gallus): A kind of heavily-armed gladiator, apparently often matched up against a retiarius. Naumachia: A mock battle between ships, organized as a spectacle, often held in lakes (both natural and artificial), and in amphitheaters, which could be flooded for the purpose. The word can also refer to an artificial lake constructed for the purpose of exhibiting mock sea battles. Occupavit et vicit (literal translation, “He seized [the lead at the outset] and won.”): A chariot racing strategy in which a driver would attempt to gain the lead at the beginning of the race, and hold it throughout. Ocrea (plural, ocreae): A protective covering for the leg, often worn by Thracian gladiators. Palma: A palm branch, often awarded to charioteers especially, as a symbol of victory. Palus: A wooden post used by gladiators for practice sessions, in which they tried to impale it with their swords. Pankration: Pronounced “pan-krat-e-on,” not “pan-kray-shun.” A Greek word meaning “all/strength,” and an athletic contest sometimes seen at Roman spectacles. It was a truly dangerous sport, a brutal combination of boxing and wrestling, like modern cage fighting. In the Greek version of the event, the two combatants were allowed to punch, kick, pull hair, strangle, use any kind of physical force except for gouging or biting. Victory was determined when one pankratiast yielded. Parma, or parmula: A small, round shield carried by some gladiators, especially Thracians. Parmularius: An example of partisanship among gladiatorial spectators; a par-

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mularius, according to the Oxford Latin Dictionary, was “an adherent or supporter of those armed with parmulae, i.e. Thracian gladiators.” Pedibus ad quadrigam: A charioteering hapax legomenon, seen only in the inscription on the career of Publius Aelius Gutta Calpurnianus. The term literally means “on foot toward the chariot,” but its specific application to competitive racing is unclear. Perhaps it refers to a race in which the drivers had to run some distance to their waiting chariots, board them, and then begin the horse-drawn portion of the race. Periodonikes: A Greek word meaning “around the circuit winner.” It was an honorary title applied to any Greek athlete who won championships at all four of the great crown festivals in succession: the Olympic, Nemean, Isthmian, and Pythian Games. The title was conferred upon the emperor Nero for his “victories” in those festivals when he toured Greece. Pila: According to the Oxford Latin Dictionary, “a ball made of pieces of cloth [or similar materials], used for inciting animals in the arena.” Pinniraptus: A rare word, literally meaning “feather snatcher”; it apparently referred to a kind of gladiator (possibly a retiarius) paired with a secutor, whose helmet crest he would try to snatch. Podium: A wall or parapet in an amphitheater or circus, forming the base of the seating area. Seats in the podium area were generally reserved for dignitaries. Pompa: Literally, a procession. A typical day at the races in the Circus Maximus and similar venues began with a ceremonial procession (the pompa), usually one lap around the track. Winning the first race of the day after the procession (a pompa) was considered to be a special distinction. Praemisit et vicit: Literal translation—“He sent [them] ahead and won.” A chariot racing strategy, in which a charioteer deliberately fell behind the other drivers at the outset, and relied on a strong finish at the end to win the race. Praepositus armamentario: An official in a gladiatorial school who was in charge of maintaining and distributing weaponry. Procurator familiae gladiatoriae: An overseer or superintendent of a gladiatorial school, who may also have played a role in recruiting or enlisting gladiators. Prolusio: A kind of warm-up fight in the arena, between combatants using nonlethal weaponry, prior to the main event: professional gladiators equipped with cold steel. Provocator (literally, “one who calls forth”): A kind of gladiator, infrequently referenced in literature or in inscriptions. A provocator may have been a lightlyarmed gladiator typically matched with a more heavily armed opponent. The provocator’s task, then, may have been to challenge (or “call out,” in the modern idiom) his adversary, perhaps with taunts or insults. Pugil: A boxer. Compare related words like pugnus (fist); pugna (fight, often used in a gladiatorial context); and pugnator (fighter).

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Pulvillus: A small pillow or cushion placed on the hard stone seats in amphitheaters and racetracks. Pulvinar: A couch originally reserved for images of the gods. Later, it referred to the emperor’s private seating area in the circus. Quadriga: A chariot pulled by four horses, running abreast. The two inner horses were called yoke horses, the two on the outside, trace horses. Quadrigarius: A driver of four-horse chariots. The word can also refer generally to charioteers, regardless of how many horses pulled the chariot. Quadruple races: See certamina quaternarum. Remissus (literally, “sent back”): A poorly understood technical term from Roman chariot racing. It probably referred to a race in which a winner could not be determined due to the closeness of the finish, although it might also be applied to a race in which a restart was necessary, perhaps because one team of horses “jumped the gun” by leaving before the dropping of the mappa. In either case, the chariots would be “sent back” to run an additional lap, or to redo the start. See also revocatus. Retiarius (literally, “net-man”): Possibly the most recognizable kind of gladiator, equipped with a trident and net. Revocatus (literally, “called back”): See remissus. These two terms both refer to some kind of restarting or rerunning of a race, but their exact applications are not clear. Rudis: A wooden sword, used by gladiators for practice. A gladiator who survived long enough to retire from the arena was termed a rudiarius, one who had been presented with an honorary wooden sword. Sagittarius: A rare term evidently referring to a kind of gladiator who used bows and arrows in the arena, possibly limited only to those who participated in mock beast hunts. Scaevus: See aequimanus. Scissor (literally “carver”): A poorly documented kind of gladiator, mentioned only once in an inscription, and not at all in literature. Scutum: A large, oblong wooden shield. Secutor (literally “follower,” or “chaser”): A kind of gladiator equipped with a sword, a helmet, and leg protection. A secutor was often matched with a retiarius, whom he frequently pursued around the arena floor (hence, the term’s meaning of “follower”). Secutores were originally called “Samnite” gladiators, apparently because their costuming and equipment resembled that of the Samnites, a warlike tribe living in east central Italy, against whom the Romans fought several wars in the fourth century bce. Sestertiarius: A term of abuse applied to a substandard gladiator. The literal mean-

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ing is “worth only a sesterce,” i.e., a very small amount of money. Compare the similar, modern expression “not worth a plug nickel.” Sica: A small, curved sword, typically carried by Thracian gladiators. The natural scientist Pliny the Elder likened it to the curved tusk of a boar. Sideritis: A plant with curative powers. According to Pliny the Elder, it was used as a treatment to stop the bleeding of wounds suffered by gladiators. Singles races: See certamina singularum. Sp.: The abbreviation seen on what might be gladiatorial tesserae, tokens of their retirement from the arena. The Sp. might be an abbreviation for spectatus, “having been seen [in the arena],” although this is not certain. See tessera, below. Sparsio (rarely spelled spassio; pls.: sparsiones and spassiones, respectively): Two possible meanings: (1) A sprinkling of water, sometimes perfumed, in the amphitheater, perhaps to minimize the amount of dust kicked up into the air; (2) A sprinkling of small gifts, like door prizes, to the spectators at a gladiatorial show or chariot race. Spatarius (literally, armed with a spatha, a short, flat-bladed sword): A rare word, but when it does appear, it is always in conjunction with a provocator, and therefore likely a descriptive term for a provocator’s weaponry. Spatium (pl. spatia): A Latin word meaning “circuit” or “lap.” It was the term customarily used to designate one lap in a circus race. Most races consisted of seven laps, run in a counterclockwise fashion around the spina. Sphaeromachia: A boxing match in which boxers wore padded gloves, or perhaps even gloves outfitted with metal weights. Spina: The long, narrow dividing wall placed in the center of the chariot racetrack; most chariot races featured seven laps around the spina. The laps were run counterclockwise. Spoliarium: A place in an amphitheater to which deceased gladiators were conveyed, and where their armor was removed. Sponsio: A bet or wager. Most bets on chariot races seemed to have been spontaneous, between spectators in the circus. Spectators at gladiatorial shows also wagered, on the outcomes of matches, but circus betting seems to have been more prevalent. Stans missus (literal meaning, “standing, sent [away].”): This term may refer to a gladiatorial match which ended in a draw, or to an inconclusive match in which winner and loser were determined on appeal to the spectators or to the sponsor of the show. Stringere metas (or metam): A charioteering term meaning “to brush, or graze, the turning post(s).” It refers to the ideal way to make a sharp turn around the end of the spina: to lightly brush the turning posts, without contacting them hard enough to cause a crash.

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Successit et vicit (literal translation, “He came from behind and won.”): A chariot racing strategy in which a driver deliberately hung back for much of the race, and then depended for victory on a finishing burst of speed on the final lap. Suppositicius: An unusual word, whose translation is uncertain. It probably means “substitute,” and likely refers to a gladiator who would replace a colleague scheduled to fight on a particular day, but for some reason—perhaps illness or injury— was unable to do so. The word probably does not describe a gladiator who would substitute for another who was wounded during a match. Sutor: A maker of horseshoes. Tabella: A word meaning “tablet,” or “placard.” In one of his poems (Amores 3.2), Ovid uses this word to refer to a spectator’s program, listing the day’s events at a chariot race. Temo: a wagon tongue, the wooden pole connecting a chariot to the interior horses, in a four-horse team. Tertiarius: The literal meaning of the word is “one-third of anything.” It came to refer to a gladiator who replaced a colleague who was killed in a previous bout. Tessera: A tessera was a small, inscribed, oblong cube made of bone or ivory, with a hole on one end. Some scholars believe that these tesserae served as identification tags for retired gladiators. Thraex (literally, “Thracian”): A kind of gladiator equipped with a small shield, either round or square, and a short, curved sword. Tiro: A gladiatorial recruit; a trainee. Triga: A chariot pulled by three horses. Trigarius: A driver of three-horse chariots. Triples races: See certamina ternarum. Troy Game: An equestrian event, performed by young men of the nobility, involving intricately choreographed moves by horses and riders, and mock charges and retreats. The Troy Game tradition started at the funeral games for Anchises (ca. 1190 bce) and was continued down to Roman imperial times. Tuba: A long, straight trumpet, used for providing musical accompaniment at gladiatorial shows. A blast from a tuba could also serve as the starting signal at foot races and other athletic events. Velarius: This word referred generally to a worker who made or repaired canopies, awnings, and sails. In a gladiatorial context, a velarius was one who furled and unfurled the awnings (vela) that covered the seating areas of many amphitheaters. Veles: A kind of gladiator, infrequently referenced in the ancient sources. In the Roman army, a veles was a lightly-armed foot soldier. Venatio: A mock wild beast hunt in the amphitheater, often exhibited in conjunction with gladiatorial bouts. A rarely seen phrase in promotional announce-

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ments, legitima venatio, should probably be translated as “usual beast hunt”; it might have been used to assure potential amphitheater spectators that there would be a hunt along with the gladiatorial matches. Venator: A hunter who participated in mock beast hunts in the amphitheater. Venatores were considered superior to the less skilled, relatively untrained bestiarii, who also engaged in mock hunts. Verso pollice: Literally, “with the thumb turned,” a hand gesture made by spectators at a gladiatorial show, to indicate their judgment about the fate of a defeated gladiator. Although the popular culture assumes that a thumb turned down would be the signal of condemnation, it could be the opposite; the downturned thumb might have been a gesture to a victorious gladiator to “drop the sword,” and spare the life of his defeated opponent. Veteranus: An experienced gladiator or charioteer; a veteran. Vilicus amphitheatri: An official in charge of operations at a gladiatorial show; an overseer.

Appendix II. Chariot Racing and Gladiatorial Shows While it is true that the Romans engaged in a variety of sports, games, and other physical activities, it is clear that the two most popular and widely attested competitions were chariot races and gladiatorial shows. The sheer massiveness of their venues bears witness to the size of the crowds which they attracted; seating capacities for the Circus Maximus and the Colosseum were about 250,000 and 45,000, respectively. A map of late first century ce Rome would show that those facilities, especially the Circus, stood as two of the largest structures in the entire city, which was home to an estimated one million residents. It is not only the venues that proclaimed the popularity of these two institutions. The fact that the decidedly non-athletic lawyer and orator Cicero often used in his essays, and political and courtroom speeches, metaphors drawn from the race track and especially the arena indicates an acknowledgment that his audiences would relate to those metaphors. Other authors, like the preeminent poets Virgil and Horace, were similarly uninterested in sporting events, but nonetheless referenced athletes and athletic competitions in their writings. The same could be said of many other writers.

Chariot Races Chariot races, the ludi circenses, occupied an important place in Roman life almost from the time of the city’s founding in 753 bce. According to the historian Livy, Romulus (Rome’s founder and first king) instituted chariot racing at Rome— as a devious distraction. In its earliest days, Rome lacked enough women to propagate the race, so Romulus invited all the neighboring peoples, and especially the Sabines, to the new city, ostensibly to show it off; for entertainment, chariot races were held. But during the running of the races, with the Sabine men trans-

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fixed by the excitement unfolding on the track, the Romans kidnapped the Sabine women, and forcibly led them into the state of matrimony. Livy also asserts that another legendary king, Tarquinius Priscus (reigned ca. 617–579 bce), was the first to mark out the ground for what would become Rome’s most famous racetrack, the Circus Maximus. Later additions to the Circus Maximus dwarfed Tarquinius’ version, whose seating area rose only to a height of twelve feet above the floor of the track. From this time onward, chariot races and other entertainments were held there, sometimes called the Great Games (Ludi Magni), other times, the Roman Games (Ludi Romani). The Circus was located in a narrow valley between two of Rome’s famous Seven Hills, the Palatine and the Aventine. The topography aided in the construction of seating areas for spectators, because seats could be fashioned out of the hillsides, thus reducing or even eliminating the need for substructures to support them. (Seating areas for a number of Roman—and Greek—theaters, amphitheaters, and racetracks were built into hillsides for this reason.) Although the narrowness of the valley limited to twelve the number of chariots that could race there at one time, the lower slopes of the hills provided plenty of space for seats; with additions constructed over the centuries, seating capacity grew to six-figure numbers. By the time of Julius Caesar in the first century bce, the building is thought to have been able to accommodate 200,000 spectators, perhaps more. The racetrack, over a quarter mile long, was bisected for much of its length by a low dividing wall called the spina; a typical race consisted of seven laps around the spina. The hairpin turns at either end precluded the attainment of high speeds on the straightaways, and also required the drivers to exercise the greatest skill and judgment: taking the turns too sharply could cause a chariot to roll over—most mishaps probably occurred in this way—while swinging too widely around the turns would result in the driver losing any favorable positioning he may have gained on the straight stretches. Once the race began, the charioteers enjoyed great tactical latitude in their efforts to win. Crowding an opponent, blocking his path, cutting sharply in front of him, causing him to crash; all these moves were legal. The ability and the willingness to force a rival driver to lose control of his team of horses was clearly essential for success in the highly competitive world of Roman chariot racing. Even if a driver had no opponent posing an immediate threat, there was still the necessity of maintaining control over the race horses, typically (although not always) four to a chariot. Specially bred for service on the track, they were strong, muscular, high-spirited animals, bending only to the will of the most skilled and experienced drivers. To aid in controlling the horses, charioteers customarily looped the slack of the reins around their waists, for added leverage. But the obvious disadvantage of this tactic manifested itself if the chariot overturned during the race. Unless the driver could extricate himself quickly from

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the tangled reins—no easy task, considering that at this point, he would likely find himself being dragged along on the ground behind the chariot—he would face the prospect of suffering serious or even fatal injuries. Most drivers carried small knives in their belts, for use in just such an emergency, but even so, successfully wielding a knife under those circumstances would be problematic. Roman charioteers were organized into teams called factions (factiones), official racing companies that provided horses, chariots, and other equipment for the games. Factions were differentiated by color: the Red (factio russata) and White (factio alba, or albata) were the two original factions, later joined by the Blue (factio veneta) and the Green (factio prasina). Serious race fans usually had a favorite faction, and their fierce loyalties were almost always to the faction, not to individual drivers. Even some of the emperors were racetrack partisans; Vitellius (reigned 69 ce) and Domitian (81–96) were adherents of the Blues, while Caligula (37–41) and Nero (54–68) favored the Greens. The popularity of the factions (especially the Blues and the Greens) extended well beyond imperial inclinations. The hundreds of thousands of fans in the stands also had their favorites. The satirist Juvenal noted sarcastically that if a Green faction driver should lose, the faction’s partisans would be as deeply dismayed as the city had been on that summer day in 216 bce when the Carthaginian army defeated its Roman counterpart at the Battle of Cannae, often cited, both by ancient and modern historians, as Rome’s worst military setback ever! Lateral mobility was available to the charioteers; they could and did switch factions. Some, in fact, drove for all four factions at one time or another during their careers. Unfortunately, the details of faction switching are unknown. The ancient evidence does not reveal, for example, whether drivers or faction management initiated transfers, whether drivers could be traded for one another, whether drivers were ever bound by any implicit or explicit contractual agreements, or whether they were the original free agents, who could sign on with the faction offering the best financial deal. It is certain, however, that the top shelf drivers could become fabulously wealthy. One of the best attested charioteers, Appuleius Diocles (second century ce), earned over 35,000,000 sesterces in his career, a sum far greater than could be expected by even the most highly paid “average Roman” watching the races in the Circus Maximus. During the time of the Roman Republic (especially in the second and first centuries bce), the responsibility for organizing, publicizing, and financing chariot races often fell to politicians eager to court the support of the electorate. Later, under the Empire, the Circus games continued to be sponsored by these officials, since by that time, such sponsorship had become a traditional duty of their offices. However, emperors might also undertake this responsibility, especially if they felt that a steady diet of public entertainments might help to keep the masses happy and malleable. The unrepressed cynic Juvenal observed, in his famous phrase, that the lower classes of society cared for nothing except panem et circenses, bread and circuses.

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Gladiatorial Shows The Roman institution of gladiatorial shows evolved from a model borrowed from the Etruscans, the dominant culture group in central Italy prior to the rise of the Romans. The earliest known gladiatorial show presented in Rome occurred during the consulship of Appius Claudius and Marcus Fulvius in 264 bce. Its sponsor was a certain Decimus Junius Brutus; the occasion was the death of Brutus’ father. The somewhat modest total of three pairs of gladiators performed. After that time, the custom of exhibiting gladiators in conjunction with funeral rites gradually became more common, and more grandiose. In 216, for example, the three sons of the recently deceased Marcus Aemilius Lepidus—Lucius, Marcus, and Quintus—gave funeral games lasting for three days, and featuring the fighting skills of 22 pairs of gladiators. Sixteen years later, a portion of the funeral ceremony for Marcus Valerius Laevinius included 25 gladiatorial pairs. The emerging tradition of coupling gladiatorial performances with funeral rites continued through the second century bce, until in 105, the consuls Publius Rutilius Rufus and Gaius Manlius produced the first official, secular, gladiatorial games. The gradual but unmistakable shift of gladiatorial contests from funerary to secular occasions apparently continued over the course of the next thirty years, with the result that the shows became institutionalized, replete with training schools and stables of professional gladiators. But the uprising led by the gladiator Spartacus in 73 bce revealed to the Romans in a bitter and forceful way that high concentrations of gladiators could result in volatile situations. Therefore, although private individuals were allowed to own and train troupes of gladiators, some legal restraints were enacted to lessen the possibility of another revolt like the one instigated by Spartacus. For example, as an office-holder in 65 bce, Julius Caesar produced a gladiatorial show, but with somewhat fewer fighters than he originally intended. He had recruited a large number of potential combatants, but this assemblage struck fear into the hearts of his political opponents; the memory of Spartacus’ revolt was still fresh. So a law was hastily passed which placed restrictions on the numbers of gladiators which any citizen could have at his disposal. During the first century bce, it had gradually become the norm for lowerlevel office holders and candidates for office to sponsor gladiatorial shows (and chariot races) as a way to increase their visibility and enhance their chances for political advancement. And so legislation was enacted to place restrictions on the production of gladiatorial shows by politicians. The famous orator and lawyer Marcus Tullius Cicero, for example, sponsored a law which prohibited prospective political candidates from producing shows within two years of running for office. After Augustus became emperor in the late first century bce, he initiated several changes pertaining to the production of games and shows, including a

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measure capping at two the number of shows which could be produced in any year, and limiting participation to a maximum of 120 fighters. However, in his autobiography, Augustus claims to have sponsored at various times eight gladiatorial shows, in which a total of about 10,000 men fought. In subsequent centuries, the task of producing large scale gladiatorial shows increasingly fell to the emperor or his close associates. Nearly all the emperors of the first century ce —especially Caligula, Nero, and Domitian—enthusiastically involved themselves in this endeavor. And that century also saw the construction of one of ancient Rome’s most famous landmarks, the Coliseum (called the Flavian Amphitheater at the time). Gladiatorial shows remained popular for several centuries thereafter, until cultural mores began to shift (possibly inspired by the rise of Christianity); in the early fifth century ce, a monk named Telemachus reportedly ran into the arena and tried single-handedly to put a halt to the show which was underway. His efforts sparked a spectator riot, in which he was brutally killed. A short time later, the emperor Honorius abolished gladiatorial shows. Gladiatorial ranks were not generally filled by Christian conscripts, but rather by slaves, criminals, and prisoners of war. Surprisingly (perhaps), free Roman citizens sometimes volunteered for gladiatorial combat, undoubtedly attracted by the same enticements that draw their modern counterparts into highrisk, dangerous sports like professional football or hockey: money, fame, the love of competition, the hordes of admirers. The commonly-held belief that professional gladiators suffered high mortality rates in the arena, or that every match resulted in the demise of one of the gladiators, is likely erroneous. Owners of gladiators invested considerable sums of money and large blocks of time in the training and preparation of their fighters. These owners were shrewd businessmen who certainly did not want to see the constant depletion of their main assets, the gladiators. Not only that, but individual gladiators could and did become famous, and attracted followings; their names often appeared on the posters and wall paintings used to publicize upcoming shows. The promoters of the shows, and the owners of the gladiators, would clearly not wish their chief attractions to be killed or seriously wounded. For all these reasons, it would seem unlikely that the primary objective of a trained, professional gladiator was to kill an equally adept and skilled opponent; rather, his goal was probably limited to forcing his adversary to admit defeat, without dispatching him. In this way, both would live to fight another day.

Appendix III. Important Dates in Roman General History and Sports History Events related to Roman sports appear in bold. Ca. 1190 bce—The funeral games for Anchises take place. These contests are vividly described in Book Five of Virgil’s Aeneid. Ca. 1200 bce—Aeneas, along with a small band of Trojans, flees the burning walls of Troy and begins his long sea journey, culminating in Italy, where he and his companions establish their new homeland. Ca. 753 bce—Romulus founds the city of Rome. 753–509 bce—Seven legendary kings rule Rome, starting with Romulus and ending with Lucius Tarquinius Superbus. 509 bce—Superbus is expelled, and the monarchy abolished. The Roman Republic is founded. Ca. 450 bce—Publication of the Twelve Tables, the first written codification of Roman law. 387 bce—Gallic invasion and occupation of Rome. 367 bce—Lex Licinia (the Licinian Law) is enacted, which opens to plebeians the office of consul (the chief administrative office of the Republic, held exclusively by patricians up to this time). Ca. 312 bce—Construction begins on the most famous Roman road, the Via Appia, or Appian Way. This road, completely paved, eventually extended from Rome to Brundisium, in southern Italy, a distance of some 360 miles. 279 bce—Battle of Asculum, against King Pyrrhus of Epirus (in Greece), who,

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although victorious, lost so many soldiers that he supposedly remarked that another such triumph would be his undoing; hence, the first “Pyrrhic victory.” 264 bce—The earliest known gladiatorial show is presented in Rome; three pairs of gladiators perform. 264–241 bce—First Punic War. Rome against Carthage. 218–201 bce—Second Punic War. 218 bce—One of ancient history’s most amazing feats: en route to Italy, the celebrated Carthaginian general Hannibal crosses the trackless, snowy, and hostile Alps Mountains, along with his army and its entourage, including several dozen elephants. 216 bce—The Battle of Cannae, a stunning defeat for the Romans at the hands of the Carthaginians, and one which would be remembered as perhaps the Romans’ worst military disaster. Ca. 204 bce—The production of one of the comic playwright Plautus’ most wellknown comedies Miles Gloriosus (The Bragging Soldier), which served as the inspiration for the modern stage play and film A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. 184 bce—Cato the Elder, one of Rome’s foremost statesmen/politicians, holds the office of censor. Eleven years earlier, in 195, he held the consulship. 149–146 bce—Third Punic War. The victorious Romans destroy the city of Carthage. 144 bce—Construction begins on Rome’s first high-level aqueduct, the Aqua Marcia (Marcian Aqueduct). 133 bce—Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus holds the office of tribune; his sponsorship of a controversial land redistribution plan ultimately leads to his violent death in a riot, the first time that Roman blood is shed in a civil disturbance. 106 bce—Birth of Marcus Tullius Cicero. 105 bce—The first secular gladiatorial show (i.e., one not connected with funeral rites) is produced by the consuls Publius Rutilius Rufus and Gaius Manlius. 104–100 bce—Gaius Marius holds an unprecedented five consecutive consulships; he also served as consul in 107 and 86. 100 bce—Birth of Gaius Julius Caesar. 81 bce—The first exhibition of the Troy Game in historical times, sponsored by the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla. 73–71 bce—The uprising led by the gladiator Spartacus. 70 bce—Birth of Publius Vergilius Maro (Virgil), author of several collections of poetry, including his epic Aeneid.

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63 bce—Cicero’s consulship; his exposure and eventual dissolution of Catiline’s armed conspiracy to overthrow the Roman government. 63 bce—Birth of the future emperor Augustus. 59 bce—Julius Caesar’s consulship. 58–50 bce—Julius Caesar’s Gallic governorship; his commentary The Gallic Wars achieved lasting fame as a reading staple for second-year Latin classes. 55 bce—Pompey’s dedication of a theater and temple in Rome, replete with games and entertainments. 49 (January) bce—Julius Caesar crosses the Rubicon River (northern Italy) with his army, a decision which brought on a civil war and also occasioned one of Caesar’s most famous sayings: Alea jacta est, “The die is cast.” 49–45 bce—The civil war between the Caesar’s forces and an army led primarily by Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (Pompey the Great). Caesar’s side wins. 45–44 bce—Caesar becomes virtually the sole ruler of Rome. 44 (March 15) bce—A conspiracy involving some 60 anti–Caesarians succeeds, as Caesar is assassinated. The orator Cicero is murdered in the following year. 44–31 bce—Another civil war: An army led by Marcus Agrippa and Octavianus (the future emperor Augustus) ultimately defeats the army of Marcus Antonius (Mark Antony) and Cleopatra. 31 bce—The decisive Battle of Actium, won by Agrippa and Octavianus, ends the civil war. 27 bce—Octavianus receives the name Augustus, and finishes consolidating his power. The transition from Republic to Empire is complete. 27 bce –14 ce—Augustus rules Rome as its first emperor, ushering in a Roman Golden Age of literary and artistic activity. 14–54 ce—Reigns of Tiberius (14–37), Caligula (37–41), and Claudius (41–54). 27 ce—A shoddily-built amphitheater in the town of Fidena (near Rome) collapses, killing or injuring tens of thousands of spectators. 30 ce—The first stone amphitheater is built and dedicated in Rome, in the Campus Martius. 54–68 ce—Reign of Nero, for whom an incredibly lavish mansion, The Golden House, was built, and who supposedly “fiddled while Rome burned” in the devastating fire of 64. 67 ce—Nero’s triumphal tour of Greece, in which he competes in the Olympic games, and embarrasses himself by falling out of a chariot which he was driving in a race. 69 ce—Four different men (Galba, Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian) rule Rome; hence, 69 is commonly known as the Year of the Four Emperors.

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79 ce—Construction begins on the Coliseum (Flavian Amphitheater). 79 ce—The eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which buries the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum in ash and lava; the seventeen-year-old Pliny the Younger witnessed the eruption and later wrote two descriptive letters about it to the historian Cornelius Tacitus. 81 ce—Dedication of the Coliseum. 96–180 ce—The reigns of the five so-called Good Emperors: Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius. 122–146 ce—The 24-year career of Appuleius Diocles, ancient Rome’s best documented charioteer, and one of the most successful. 180–284 ce—Chaotic times, with a succession of little-known or not-long remembered emperors, with one or two exceptions, such as Caracalla (reigned 211–217), famous in part for the elaborate public bathing establishment that bears his name. 217 ce—The Coliseum is severely damaged by fire and water after being struck by lightning. 285 ce—The reign of the emperor Diocletian begins, and with it, the Late Roman Empire. 301 ce—The promulgation of the Edict of Diocletian, a wage-price freeze. 324–337 ce—Constantine the Great rules as Rome’s first Christian emperor. 354 ce—Birth of St. Augustine, perhaps the most influential theologian and writer in the history of Christianity. 395 ce—Christianity is established as the state religion. 410 ce—Sack of Rome by Alaric and the Visigoths. 476 ce—Rome’s last emperor—the ironically named Romulus Augustulus—is deposed by the Germanic general Odoacer; end of the western Roman Empire.

Appendix IV. Ancient Authors Cited in the Text Aelius Lampridius. See Scriptores Historiae Augustae. Ammianus Marcellinus. Ammianus (330–395 ce), an antiquarian termed by the editors of The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature “the last great Roman historian who wrote in Latin,” compiled a history of Rome in 31 books; the years covered were 96 to 378. His history is regarded as accurate, objective, and factual. Appian. Appian, a second century ce Roman historian, was born in Alexandria (Egypt). He later moved to Rome, where he acquired Roman citizenship, and wrote a lengthy History of Rome. Perhaps the most important portions of this work are his chapters on the civil wars which were fought in the first century bce. Included in this part of the work is an extensive account of the gladiator/slave rebellion led by Spartacus. Apuleius (Full Roman name: Lucius Apuleius, flourished in the second century ce). The philosopher, writer, and traveler Lucius Apuleius, whom the editor S. Gaselee calls “one of the most curious figures of Roman literature,” was born in North Africa. On one of his travels, to Alexandria, he became ill, but a rich widow named Aemilia Pudentilla nursed him back to health. When he subsequently married her, her relatives accused him of gold-digger tendencies. He was able to refute their claim in a speech that still survives. After journeying to Carthage, Athens and Rome, he returned to North Africa, where he remained for the rest of his life. His most famous book (and the only intact Latin novel), The Golden Ass (subtitled Being the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius), is a tale about the adventures of a man-turned-donkey. Athenaeus. Athenaeus, who flourished around 200 ce, hailed from the northern Egyptian town of Naucratis. His lone extant work, Deipnosophistae (The Learned Banqueters), is a lengthy collection of all kinds of information that one might

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reasonably expect to be discussed by intelligent and sophisticated people at a dinner party. Twenty-three of these learned banqueters appear at various points in the 15 books into which the work is divided. They discuss topics ranging from money, to food and dining, to fish and birds, to riddles and enigmas, to music and musical instruments, to famous courtesans, and many more. Augustine (Full name: St. Augustine of Hippo, 354–430 ce). St. Augustine is universally recognized as one of history’s most important Christian theologians. From his modest beginnings in the North African town of Hippo, he eventually rose to the rank of bishop, a post which he held for some 35 years. His diocese was no less than the entirety of North Africa, and he tirelessly and conscientiously discharged his duties for his entire 35 years as bishop. In addition to his administrative and pastoral responsibilities, he also found time to write two of the most influential books in the history of Christianity: Confessions, and The City of God. He also authored over 90 other books, and carried on a voluminous correspondence with the officials in his diocese and elsewhere. Aulus Gellius. Aulus Gellius (ca. 123–165 ce) was a jurist and rhetorician, but he is best known today for his book Attic Nights, a 20-book compendium of information, anecdotes, and commentary on a wide array of topics. The title is derived from the period of time which he spent in Athens, where he began composing his book, during the long nights of winter. Ausonius (Full Roman name: Decimus Magnus Ausonius, ca. 310–393 ce). Ausonius was a creative and innovative poet who experimented with many different themes in his work, including poems about famous cities, the Roman emperors, and the names of the days and the months. He also wrote a “day in the life” poem, about his daily activities, and a long poem about the Moselle River, and the lives and activities of the people who lived near it. Cassiodorus (Full Roman name: Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus, ca. 490– 583 ce). Cassiodorus was a Christian statesman and politician who retired from public life in the 540s, and spent the remainder of his days pursuing his literary projects. These included the Variae, some 468 letters, most of which he wrote on behalf of various Gothic kings, to be sent to important officials in other kingdoms. He also wrote a history of the Goths, a world history, and books on grammar. Cicero (Full Roman name: Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106–43 bce). Cicero was the pre-eminent lawyer in all of Roman history, and one of the most accomplished lawyers in the entire history of the Western World. He was active in Roman legal circles for almost 40 years; over 50 of his court and political speeches survive. He was also a statesman, an office-holder, a diplomat, an orator, an epistler (nearly 1,000 letters that he wrote, or that were written to him, are extant), a philosopher, and the author of many books and essays. Dio Cassius (Full Roman name: Cassius Dio Cocceianus, ca. 150–235 ce) Dio Cassius (or Cassius Dio, as he is sometimes called; there seems to be no stan-

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dardization in the order of the names) wrote a history of Rome (in Greek), covering its earliest beginnings up to his own time. The treatise is divided into 80 books, of which Books 36–54 survive intact, and several others in partial or abbreviated form. He researched his material for ten years, and then took another twelve years to write it. Dio is also known to have written a book on dreams and omens, as well as several other works, none of which has survived. Diodorus Siculus (“the Sicilian”). The first century bce historian Diodorus Siculus wrote a massive history of Rome (titled Historical Library) divided into 40 books; he spent about 30 years on this project. The scope of his treatise is wide-ranging; in addition to Roman history, he also incorporates information about Egypt, Asia, north Africa (including Carthage), and Greece. Dionysius of Halicarnassus. The first century bce historian Dionysius of Halicarnassus was a man of wide-ranging literary interests. He authored a 20-book history of Rome, as well as essays on oratory, literary criticism, and prose styles. He is best remembered today for his Roman Antiquities, a history of Rome from its earliest days down to the time of the First Punic War (264–241 bce). Dionysius had a predilection for quoting speeches at great length, which in the aggregate provide insights into political debate, especially in the early Roman Republic. Eusebius (ca. 260–340 ce). Eusebius was a bishop of the early Christian church, and a prolific writer. His best known literary work is the Ecclesiastical History; this book provides important information about the earliest days of Christianity in the East. He also wrote a book titled Chronology, which includes many catalogues and lists, including a roster of all stade race winners (the 200-yard dash) in the ancient Olympic games, from 776 bce to 217 ce. Frontinus (Full Roman name: Sextus Julius Frontinus, ca. 35–104 ce). In 97 ce, Frontinus, a Roman engineer, was appointed to the post of curator aquarum, superintendent of the aqueducts. As a result of his experiences in this office, he wrote a manual (De Aquis Urbis Romae) about the Roman aqueduct system, intended to be a guidebook for his successors. This treatise, the only one of its kind still in existence, overflows with detailed information about the dimensions, specifications, flow rates, maintenance costs, history, and similar matters relating to the aqueduct system. Fronto (Full Roman name: Marcus Cornelius Fronto, ca. 100–176 ce). Fronto’s reputation as an outstanding orator was his distinguishing characteristic among his contemporaries, although today he is better known as an epistler and a historian. Of his letters, 208 survive; many of these were written to the emperor Marcus Aurelius, whom he considered to be a good friend. He also served as a tutor to Marcus Aurelius, and his co-regent, Lucius Verus. Galen (ca. 129–200 ce). Galen was the pre-eminent physician of ancient times. His ideas and methods were studied and followed well into the Middle Ages. He writes that he received his first practical experience in medicine while serving as a physician to the gladiators in his hometown in Pergamum (from about 157

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to 161). He was a voluminous author, one of the most prolific writers in the history of Greek and Roman literature; the historian Albin Lesky notes that “[i]t is hardly possible to review Galen’s literary production.” As an old man, Galen compiled a bibliography of his written works: the titles of 153 books and treatises appeared on his list. Herodian of Syria (ca. 170–240 ce). Although not born in Rome, Herodian served as a Roman civil servant, who also wrote history. His most important work, History of the Empire from the Death of Marcus [Aurelius], covers the years 180 to 238. Homer (Dates uncertain; perhaps fl. 800 bce). Attributed to Homer are two of the Western World’s most important and influential epic poems, Iliad and Odyssey. In the Iliad, he recounts the final several months of the long and bitter Trojan War (ca. 1200–1190 bce). The Odyssey, a kind of sequel to the Iliad, tells the tale of the 10-year voyage home of the Greek hero Odysseus, and the difficulties he faced in trying to reestablish himself as the rightful ruler of his island kingdom of Ithaca. Horace (Full Roman name: Quintus Horatius Flaccus, 65–8 bce). Along with Virgil and Ovid, Horace is regarded as one of the premier poets of the first century bce, and perhaps of all time. He authored four collections of poetry: Odes, Epodes, Epistles, and Satires. His poetry covers a wide range of topics, from a tongue in cheek description of a trip from Rome to Brundisium, to reflections on the poetic art, the shortness of life, and the pleasures of country living. He is the originator of the famous phrase carpe diem (“seize the day”). Isidorus (Also called Isidore of Seville; fl. seventh century ce). Isidorus was a scholarly bishop, whose most famous work is Origines, a kind of compendium of knowledge in many different areas. Josephus (Full name: Flavius Josephus, ca. 37–93 ce). Josephus, a Jewish historian, is particularly noted for his book The Jewish Wars, on the recent history of the Jewish people, and especially their struggles against the Romans. His equally important book, The Antiquities of the Jews, is a history of the Jewish people from the time of Adam, down to 66 ce. Julius Caesar (Full Roman name: Gaius Julius Caesar, 100–44 bce). Although not generally thought of as a man of letters, Caesar authored two influential and widely read books on his military experiences: The Gallic War, which was (as the title indicates) a commentary on his military campaigns in Gaul in the 50s bce; and The Civil War, a commentary on the Roman civil war (49–45 bce) which erupted after his return from Gaul. He also authored a number of works which are no longer extant, including a book on grammar, a number of poems, and even a collection of jokes. Juvenal (Full Roman name: Decimus Junius Juvenalis, ca. 50–127 ce). Juvenal, the foremost satiric poet in the history of Roman literature, penned sixteen

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satirical poems, most of them filled with complaints or laments about the inequities, double standards, loose morals, and corruption that he perceived in Roman government and society. One of his most famous lines, difficile est saturam non scribere (“it is difficult not to write satire”), sums up his literary perspective. Livy (Full Roman name: Titus Livius, 59 bce–17 ce). Livy’s massive history of Rome, Ab Urbe Condita (From the City’s Founding), was literally his life’s work; he started writing it when he was around 30 years of age, and finished it some 40 years later. The text is divided into 142 books; of these, Books I–IX, XXI–XL, and XLII–XLV are intact, and fragments of synopses of most of the others also still survive. Lucian (ca. 115–180 ce). Lucius was born in Syria, but he left his homeland at a young age, and traveled widely. He wrote witty and inventive satirical dialogues and essays on a wide variety of topics, including mythology, history, famous artists, athletes, and philosophers, literature, and the foibles of society. Lucilius (Full Roman name: Gaius Lucilius, ca. 180–102 bce). The writings of Lucilius, a poet credited with inventing the genre of satire, exist today only in fragmentary, incomplete form. He apparently wrote about many facets of Roman life and times, including literature, morality, philosophy, travel, and society. The first century bce poet Horace, whom he influenced, once wrote that Lucilius could churn out 200 lines of poetry in an hour, while standing on one foot. Marcus Aurelius (121–180 ce). Marcus Aurelius, the last of Rome’s so-called “Five Good Emperors,” ruled from 161 until his death in 180. A skilled administrator and general, Marcus Aurelius was also a thoughtful, introspective man. His short book Meditations, written in Greek, as a kind of diary, contains his personal reflections on life from a Stoic point of view. Martial (Full Roman name: Marcus Valerius Martialis, ca. 40–104 ce). The poet Martial hailed from the small Spanish town of Bilbilis. He immigrated to Rome as a young man, where he launched his literary career. He ultimately penned more than 1,500 short to medium-length poems, many of them wittily sarcastic or satirical; collectively, they are called the Epigrams. He also wrote a longer poem, the Liber Spectaculorum (Book of Spectacles), in honor of the opening of the Coliseum in 81 ce. Ovid (Full Roman name: Publius Ovidius Naso, 43 bce–17 ce). Ovid, generally ranked as one of the greatest of all Roman poets, is perhaps most famous for his collection of Greek and Roman mythological stories, Metamorphoses. However, he wrote many other kinds of poetry, including several volumes on love: Ars Amatoria (The Art of Love), Remedia Amoris (Remedies for Love), and Amores (Love Poems). One of the poems in Amores offers the reader advice on how to attract the attention of a young lady while viewing chariot races in the Circus Maximus. The emperor Augustus ordered Ovid to be permanently banished from Rome in 8 ce, for reasons which remain unclear, although it seems apparent that Ovid’s sometimes risqué love poems may have been a factor.

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Petronius (Full Roman name: Petronius Arbiter, d. 65 ce). Petronius was a sophisticated writer, politician, and favorite of the emperor Nero. He was given the ceremonial title elegantiae arbiter, “the arbiter of taste.” He is most famous for his satirical novel Satyricon, which, in turn, is best known for its description of a dinner party thrown by the flamboyant, unpredictable, and excessively wealthy Trimalchio. Pliny the Elder (Full Roman name: Gaius Plinius Secundus, 23–79 ce). He is called “the Elder” to distinguish him from his nephew, Pliny the Younger. Pliny the Elder was ancient Rome’s preeminent natural historian. He wrote a massive treatise on the subject, in which he claims to have consulted 2,000 writings from a total of 473 authors. His finished product, Naturalis Historia (Natural History), is divided into 37 books, containing some 20,000 facts, on topics such as rivers, mountains, islands, land animals, sea animals, birds, insects, native and foreign shrubs and trees, fruit trees, vineyards, crops, garden plants, drugs and medicines, metals, and gems. He also wrote books on history, education, military weaponry, and grammar, although none of these is extant. His death in 79 occurred during the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius; as a natural scientist, he had traveled to the vicinity to study the volcano, and succumbed, apparently from the airborne gasses and debris. Pliny the Younger (Full Roman name: Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, 62–114 ce). He is called “the Younger” to distinguish him from his uncle, Pliny the Elder. Pliny the Younger was the epitome of the cultured Roman gentleman; his career included stints as an orator, statesman, diplomat, and epistler. Two hundred fortyseven of the letters which he penned to friends are still extant. Their topics are wide-ranging, including classic descriptions of his country villa, and an account of the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which he witnessed. Additionally, 121 letters remain which he wrote to, and received from, the emperor Trajan (reigned 98–117 ce), in his capacity as the emperor’s representative in the province of Pontus-Bithynia. One speech also survives, the Panegyricus, in honor of Trajan. Plutarch (ca. 46–120 ce). The cultured and erudite Plutarch is best remembered as the author of 23 paired, and four single biographies of famous Greeks and Romans. Shakespeare depended on these biographies for information for his Roman plays, and they continue to be read and appreciated up to the present time. Plutarch also wrote a collection of short essays (Moralia or Moral Essays) on a variety of topics such as marriage, health, education, virtue, religion, politics, philosophy, and many others. Polybius (ca. 200–118 bce). Although Polybius was a Greek historian, he was well acquainted with Roman history and culture, having spent some 20 years living in Rome. His History of Rome covers much of the third and second centuries bce. He was a great admirer of the Roman system of government, and included in his histories a famous, laudatory essay on the Roman constitution.

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Quintilian (Full Roman name: Marcus Fabius Quintilianus, ca. 35–95 ce). Quintilian was a writer and a teacher of rhetoric. His pedagogical skills enabled him to become the first teacher to receive a regular salary from the imperial government. His book, the Institutes of Oratory, includes information about grammar, spelling and word usage; teaching methods; the various kinds of court cases that a rhetorician might argue; the importance of reading widely; intellectual and personal qualities necessary for an orator. Scriptores Historiae Augustae. This term refers to a consortium of third and fourth century ce historians who wrote biographies of thirty Roman emperors, beginning with Hadrian (reigned 117–138) and ending with Numerian (282–284). The names of the individual authors in this consortium: Aelius Spartianus, Julius Capitolinus, Vulcacius Gallicanus, Aelius Lampridius, Trebellius Pollio, and Flavius Vopiscus. Seneca the Younger (Full Roman name: Lucius Annaeus Seneca, 4 bce–65 ce). He was called the “Younger” to differentiate him from his father, Seneca the Elder, also a prominent writer. Seneca was a prolific writer, and also served for a time as the tutor of the infamous emperor Nero. He wrote philosophical treatises, and also a collection of essays about natural phenomena. He amassed great wealth during his life, with a net worth of some 300,000,000 sesterces, and was ranked as one of the richest men of his time. Sidonius (Full Roman name: Gaius Sollius Apollinaris Sidonius, ca. 430–480 ce). Sidonius was born in Gaul (modern France), into a Christianized family. He became a bishop of the church in 469, and was eventually declared a saint. He was also a poet; 24 of his poems are extant, each one addressed to a friend. These works offer a variety of information about life and culture in fifth-century Gaul, including a detailed description of a chariot race in which his friend Consentius competed. The editors of The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature characterize Sidonius as “one of the last major figures of classical culture.” Silius Italicus (Full Roman name: Tiberius Catius Asconius Silius Italicus, ca. 26–101 ce). Silius Italicus was a Roman poet, whose claim to fame is his authorship of the longest surviving Latin poem Punica, an epic on the Second Punic War (218–201 bce). Silius was independently wealthy, which enabled him to focus on his writing and his other intellectual interests, such as collecting books and works of art. He owned a number of properties, including a house that once belonged to the famous orator Cicero. Interestingly, it is thought that he may have been born in Patavium (in northern Italy), hometown of the historian Livy, from whose writings he derived much of his information about the Second Punic War. Strabo (ca. 64 bce–ca. 24 ce). Strabo, from Amasia in Pontus (the Black Sea region), was an erudite and widely traveled geographer and historian. He visited Rome as a young man, and returned to the city on several occasions. His travels took him to parts of Asia and Africa, and he subsequently authored his one surviving work, Geography, a massive treatise which includes information about

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Spain, Gaul (modern France), Italy, northern and eastern Europe, Greece, northern and western Asia, all of Asia Minor, India, the Middle East, and Egypt. Suetonius (Full Roman name: Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, ca. 70–140 ce). Suetonius is sometimes described as a scandal-mongering historian, but in actuality, he was neither. Rather, he was a sober and skillful biographer who attempted to provide a complete picture of the individuals about whom he wrote, and if that picture included immoral acts or anti-social behaviors, so be it. Suetonius is perhaps most famous for his biographies of the first twelve Roman emperors, but he also wrote accounts of the lives of noted literati, as well as (now lost) works on a variety of other topics. Tacitus (Full Roman name: Cornelius Tacitus, ca. 55–117 ce). Tacitus, a highly regarded Roman historian, wrote two important books about first century ce Rome: Annals, spanning the years 14–68, in 18 books, 12 of which survive, and Histories, which cover the years 69–70. He also wrote a biography of his fatherin-law, Agricola, a description of Germany (Germania), and a treatise on oratory (Dialogue on Oratory). It was Tacitus who requested Pliny the Younger to send him information about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, because he wanted to incorporate the material into one of his historical works. Pliny complied, and the two (still extant) letters he wrote form an important body of information about that event. Terence (Full Roman name: Publius Terentius Afer, ca. 193–159 bce). The playwright Terence was born in Carthage (North Africa, hence his third name Afer, “the African”). He came to Rome as a slave, but his literary talents enabled him to rise above that status, and he eventually wrote six comic plays, all of which survive to the present time. Tertullian (Full Roman name: Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, ca. 160– 225 ce). Although born a pagan in North Africa, Tertullian converted to Christianity as an adult, and ultimately become one of the greatest of the early Christian apologists. Among other accomplishments, he is generally credited with having been the first theologian to articulate a coherent description of the concept of the Trinity. He wrote in both Greek and Latin, but only his Latin works survive. Of these, the most prominent and important is the Apology. He also wrote De Spectaculis (Concerning Spectacles), a stinging and edgy critique of actors, charioteers, and gladiators, and the people who watched them perform. Trebellius Pollio. See Scriptores Historiae Augustae. Valerius Maximus (First century ce.) Valerius Maximus compiled a collection of anecdotes, maxims, and quotations titled Facta et Dicta Memorabilia, Memorable Doings and Sayings. The work includes sections on topics such as religion, omens, bravery, friendship, good fortune, justice, moderation and many more. Each topic is divided into two sections: the first section contains examples from Roman history and culture, the second, external examples, from other culture groups.

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Varro (Full Roman name: Marcus Terentius Varro, 116–27 bce). The erudite, learned Varro accomplished much during his long life. He is probably best known for helping to establish a library in Rome, at the behest of Julius Caesar, in the 40s, and also for his many literary works, including treatises on education, philosophy, history, geography, natural science, law, farming, and linguistics. Of this vast body of work, only his book on farming (De re rustica) survives intact. Additionally, about 25 percent of his lengthy study on the Latin language (De lingua Latina) remains. Velleius Paterculus (ca. 19 bce–31 ce). After a long military and political career, Velleius Paterculus turned his attention to literature. Near the end of his life, and at the request of the consul Marcus Vicinius, he wrote a comprehensive history of Rome from its beginnings, down to his own time. Virgil (Full Roman name: Publius Vergilius Maro, 70–19 bce). Generally regarded as the greatest Roman poet, Virgil wrote ten books of pastoral poems (Eclogues) and four books of poetry on farming (Georgics). But undoubtedly his most famous work was his epic poem Aeneid, which traces the story of the Trojan hero Aeneas, and his founding of the Roman race. Virgil began writing this epic around the year 29, and finished it in 19. He had planned to spend an additional three years editing and polishing the text, but he died before those plans could be accomplished. Although in his will he specified that the manuscript be destroyed if the revisions had not been done, the emperor Augustus nullified that request, and the poem was saved.

Bibliography Where to find additional information about sports in ancient Rome Nullumst iam dictum quod non sit dictum prius, as the Roman comic playwright Terence aptly put it some 2,160 years ago, in his play Eunuch (line 41): “Nothing is said now which hasn’t been said before.” And as the author himself wrote once before, in another context, this is the challenge that confronts any nonfiction writer: how to say something new in a way that it has not been said before, all the while trying mightily to avoid charges of triteness, triviality, inaccuracy, or worst of all, that bane of any conscientious wordsmith, plagiarism, unintentional or otherwise. A comprehensive bibliography follows, but several of the entries deserve special mention. Heading that list would be the collective efforts of the editors and translators who have contributed their considerable talents to the preparation and publication of the volumes of the Loeb Classical Library (LCL). The series is devoted to translations of the works of all major Greek and Latin authors, over 100 of whom are now represented, with additions making their way into the series every year; each volume contains the Latin (or Greek) text on one side, with the English translation on the facing page. The translations are always first-rate, and universally achieve the often elusive goal of any translator: as free as possible, as literal as necessary. Additionally, most Loeb volumes offer introductory essays, explanatory footnotes (always very useful), timelines, indices, and other valuable information. Those searching for additional information about dangerous sports in ancient Rome would be well advised to consult the relevant Loeb volumes as a first order of business. One unfortunate disadvantage of the Loebs: they are generally not available in most high school or public libraries, although university libraries usually stock at least some volumes. The idea—and funding—for Greek-English and Latin-English editions of classical authors came from 18th/19th century philanthropist and financier James Loeb, whose name the series retains to the present day. The Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (CIL) is a massive, multi-volume col-

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Bibliography

lection (17 folio volumes in all) of transcriptions of nearly 200,000 Latin inscriptions, covering every imaginable topic, from the most mundane to the most serious. The longer ones have been edited and annotated; unfortunately, this information is in Latin, and the CIL (unlike the Loeb volumes) does not provide English translations. The inscriptions in most of the volumes are organized according to the location in which they were found; Volume VI, which is devoted to inscriptions found in and around Rome, is (not surprisingly) the most extensive of the 17 volumes. Volume IV contains inscriptions unearthed in Pompeii, including numerous examples of graffiti. An annual publication, sort of a supplement to the CIL, is the L’Année Epigraphique (usually abbreviated AE). The AE volumes contain transcriptions of all inscriptions discovered in a particular year. If no translations are provided within the pages of the CIL, where, then, might the Latinless user find English versions of these Latin inscriptions? There is no single resource which contains translations of all Latin inscriptions pertaining to Roman sports, but sourcebooks or reference works often contain a good many translations. However, it sometimes requires perseverance and patience on the part of the reader to find these translations. For example, Richmond Lattimore’s Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962) contains transcriptions (but only some translations) of over 100 inscriptions, on many different topics. Unfortunately, the book is not indexed, so finding sports-related texts takes some needle-in-the-haystack searching. But the payoff is satisfying; the book contains an elegant translation of an inscription devoted to a Blue faction charioteer by the name of Fuscus. Another translated inscription records the glorious deeds of an unnamed soldier-athlete: swimmer, archer, adept with the javelin, a man who “shot an arrow and, while it hung in the air before descending to earth, split it with a second shaft.” In general, it seems accurate to say that any credible book on Roman social history will offer the reader at least one chapter devoted to athletic competition; whether translated inscriptions appear can be discovered only by opening the book. Epigraphical evidence (that is, information obtained from the study and translation of inscriptions) is by far the most important source of information about the lives and careers of individual charioteers and gladiators. These kinds of biographical data are never provided in any length or detail by the ancient authors, nor are these authors very forthcoming with material on other aspects of dangerous sports. Perhaps they are at their most prolific when writing about the interest that emperors or other noted political leaders might have in the arenas or racetracks. Three of the most useful, and best documented, modern works are J.P.V.D. Balsdon’s Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome; Ludwig Friedlaender’s Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire (English translation by J.H. Freese, Leonard A. Magnus, and A.B. Gough), and Sport in Greece and Rome, by H.A. Harris. Notes on each:

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Balsdon’s Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome is an excellent social history of ancient Rome; the author includes chapters on a typical Roman day, family life, work and leisure, retirement, holidays, and travel. The final chapter, “Holidays at Home: Public Entertainment,” covers festivals, games, and shows; places of entertainment; gladiatorial shows; chariot races; Greek games in Roman venues; tournaments and displays. The content is readable and engaging, and the text is fully supported with hundreds of footnotes. Friedlaender’s Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire, now over 100 years old, remains an important source of information. The work contains three volumes of textual content, and a fourth volume devoted to appendices and endnotes. The reader will find facts and information about games and sports in Volume Two. Topics include: involvement by emperors and politicians in the staging of shows; expenses of the shows; number of festival days in a typical year; size, dimensions, and seating areas in the Circus Maximus; chariot races and drivers; factions; public interest in chariot races; a typical chariot race; origins and development of gladiatorial shows; gladiatorial demographics; recruitment and training of gladiators; publicizing gladiatorial shows; gladiatorial classifications; gladiatorial combat; hunts of wild animals; sources of wild animals; transporting them from Africa and Asia to Rome; mock sea battles; attitudes of educated Romans toward gladiatorial shows; the Coliseum. Harris’ Sport in Greece and Rome is a lively, entertaining, and reliable guide to sporting events in both cultures, as the title suggests. The book contains chapters on circus architecture, the organization of Roman chariot racing, chariot racing in Roman social life, betting on chariot racing, chariot racing and the early Christians, and chariot racing in the Byzantine Empire. The book is fully documented with endnotes, and a brief bibliographical essay. One drawback: Harris does not discuss gladiatorial shows, mock sea battles, or wild beast hunts. Reference works in the area of ancient history abound, but few can match the century-old (and then some) Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities, edited by Harry Thurston Peck. This venerable encyclopedic dictionary, numbering over 1,700 pages, contains entries on all manner of topics pertaining to the classical world, and despite its age, it remains a valuable and well-written resource. Of lesser poundage, but very useful nonetheless, are the Oxford Classical Dictionary, and The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature. A short but handy reference work for quick answers to mythological questions is J.E. Zimmerman’s Dictionary of Classical Mythology. A word or two of praise should be offered to the Oxford Latin Dictionary, all 2,126 pages of it. This resource is an amazing masterpiece of lexicography, with complete definitions and generous cross-references for even the most obscure Latin words. The glossaries in the present work are indebted to the OLD for many of the definitions which appear there.

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A Note on Electronic Sources In most cases, print sources are to be preferred over electronic sources; hence, the relative dearth of websites and similar media cited in the bibliographies just below, and at the conclusion of individual entries throughout the text. The reasons for the de-emphasis on electronic sources are two-fold: (1) Electronic sources are ephemeral. Websites that appear fully functional today may be taken down tomorrow, and never be seen again. Print sources, on the other hand, will always be available. One of the reasons that electronic sources are generally not extensively cited in the source references and bibliography is because of the short-lived nature of these sources. (2) Electronic sources are generally less reliable than print sources. Anyone can post anything on the internet and similar media. But not anyone can write a book and subsequently have it published in ink-and-paper form. Printed non-fiction books have invariably undergone an editing process that (hopefully) weeds out errors and ambiguities; electronic sources seldom face a similarly rigorous review. Users of electronic sources should make certain that content presented as “fact” has been fully documented with footnotes and/or a bibliography. Bibliographies that contain few or no citations of ancient sources should be considered insufficient. Text that contains grammatical and word usage errors should automatically be suspect. Electronic articles which have not been written by established authorities (such as high school or college teachers, historians, or researchers with solid publications resumes) should be avoided. Electronic articles that are heavy on illustrations (especially “cutesy” cartoons and the like), and light on prose, should be regarded with skepticism. Probably the most reliable electronic source is the often-maligned Wikipedia. But Wikipedia has proven that it has staying power, and its articles are generally supported with documentation; often, the documentation is very detailed. If nothing else, Wikipedia articles can provide a user with valuable bibliographical information. Sometimes, a user may be able to find online versions of Loeb translations (either complete or partial), as well as e-book versions of other works that originally appeared in ink-and-paper form.

A Note on the Source Listings Appearing at the End of Each Entry The reader will readily note that the source listings at the end of each of the entries is usually not lengthy. The reason for this is that in most cases, there is not an extensive bibliography on a majority of the entries, especially those entries

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which focus on specific charioteers, gladiators, and other practitioners of Roman sports. In any event, for those readers who wish to find additional or corroborative information on any of the entries, the place to start is with the ancient sources. This, in turn, raises the matter of: How do we find information about Roman sports in the writings of ancient authors? One method, perhaps the quickest way, is to do an electronic search using the name of the author, and the desired topic. Example: “Suetonius and gladiators.” Check the back matter for biographies of ancient authors who provide information about Roman sports. The authors most likely to be helpful and informative: Cicero; Dio Cassius; Juvenal; Martial; Pliny the Elder; Suetonius; Tertullian. However, “old school” historians (such as the author of this book) still prefer hard copy formats. But finding information about dangerous sports in a book containing an ancient author’s translated writings is not quite as easily done as an electronic search. Indices may help, or they may be skimpy or even nonexistent. A more direct way to find information is to look directly into the text. But what if the text has 400 pages, and no index? Is it then necessary to search for the elusive gladiatorial or charioteering needle in a very tall haystack, by laboriously leafing through each of the 400 pages? Not necessarily. Let us say hypothetically that a reader wants to find out some information about the attitude of the Roman emperor Claudius toward Roman sports. By checking the bibliography for the entry titled “Claudius and Roman sports,” he or she will see the following: Suetonius, Life of Claudius 20–21. Several versions of Suetonius’ translated writings are available, including the Loeb and Penguin editions. The problem is that the pagination always differs from one edition to the next, so providing page numbers in a bibliography would not be very helpful. Rather, a kind of “short-hand” method for finding a specific passage is employed. The “20” and “21” do not refer to page numbers, but rather to sections, or chapters, of the biography. These numbers will consistently refer to the same material, regardless of the version or edition of the translation. Hence, the reader need only find sections 20 and 21—which will always be labeled as such—to locate the desired information.

Translations and Editions of Ancient Authors An additional note on the Loeb translations, designated thus: [LCL]. The first Loeb volumes appeared in 1912, published by William Heinemann Ltd., of London, England. Harvard University Press soon joined the venture, and the two houses are listed as the joint publishers in the front matter of most Loeb volumes. Both publishers are listed in the bibliography of the present work; sometimes (for reasons which are not clear) the Heinemann name appears first, sometimes, Harvard. The order in which the names are recorded in the bibliography reflects their ordering in the individual volumes. Also, many of the volumes have un-

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Bibliography

dergone more than one printing. In those cases, only the date of the first printing has been noted in the bibliography. Finally, the designation of “Cambridge” for place of publication is in all cases a reference to Cambridge, Massachusetts. In 1989, Harvard University Press became the sole publisher of the Loeb series; new translations appear periodically, right up to the present time: Adlington, William (tr.), with revisions by S. Gaselee. Apuleius. The Golden Ass. Being the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed, 1915. Anderson, W.B. (tr.). Sidonius. Poems and Letters. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1936. Arrowsmith, William (tr.). Petronius. The Satyricon. New York: New American Library, 1960. Babbitt, Frank Cole (tr.). Plutarch’s Moralia. Volume II. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1936. Bailey, D.R. Shackleton (tr.). Martial: Epigrams. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993. _____. Martial: Epigrams. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993. _____. Martial: Epigrams. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1993. _____. [Quintilian]. The Lesser Declamations. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2006. Barnish, S.J.B. (tr.). The Variae of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992. Basore, John W. (tr.). Seneca: Moral Essays. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed, 1928. _____. Seneca: Moral Essays. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed, 1932. _____. Seneca: Moral Essays. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed, 1935. Bennett, Charles E. (tr.; the translation of the aqueducts being a revision of that of Clemens Heerschel). Frontinus: The Stratagems and the Aqueducts of Rome. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1925. Butler, H.E. (tr.). The Institutio Oratoria of Quintilian. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printing, 1920. Cary, Earnest (tr.). The Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Volume IV. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd. and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1943. _____. Dio’s Roman History. Volume III. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and New York: The MacMillan Co., 1914. _____. Dio’s Roman History. Volume VI. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1917. _____. Dio’s Roman History. Volume VII. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1924. _____. Dio’s Roman History. Volume VIII. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd. and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed, 1925. _____. Dio’s Roman History. Volume IX. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd. and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1927. Courtney, Edward. A Commentary on the Satires of Juvenal. London: The Athlone Press, 1980. Dodgson, C. (tr.). Tertullian: An Address to the Martyrs. http://tertullian.org/articles/lof/ martyrs.htm/ Duff, J.D. (tr.). Silius Italicus. Punica. Books IX–XVII. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, first published 1934.

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Edwards, H.J. (tr.). Caesar. The Gallic War. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1917. Eichholz, D.E. (tr.). Pliny: Natural History. [LCL]. Volume X. London: William Heinemann Ltd. and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1962. Evelyn-White, Hugh G. (tr.). Ausonius. Volume I. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1919. Fairclough, H. Rushton (tr.). Horace: Satires, Epistles and Ars Poetica. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1926. _____. Virgil: Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I–VI. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printing 1916. Foster, B.O. (tr.). Livy. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1919. Gardner, R. (tr.). Cicero: The Speeches. Pro Sestio and In Vatinium. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1958. Glover, T.R. (tr.). Tertullian: Apology; De Spectaculis. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1931. Green, Peter (tr.). Juvenal. The Sixteen Satires. Baltimore: Penguin Books Inc., first printed 1967. Gregory, Horace (tr.). Ovid: The Metamorphoses. New York: The Viking Press, published as a Mentor Book, 1960. Grube, G.M.A. (tr.). The Meditations. Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. Indianapolis and New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1963. Gummere, Richard M. (tr.). Seneca Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Volume I. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1917. _____. Seneca Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Volume II. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1920. Haines, C.R. (tr.). The Correspondence of Marcus Cornelius Fronto. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1920. Harmon, A.M. (tr.). Lucian. Volume V. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1936. Hubbell, H.M. (tr.). Cicero: De Inventione; De Optimo Genere Oratorum; Topica. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann, Ltd., first printed 1949. Humphries, Rolfe (tr.). The Aeneid of Virgil. A Verse Translation. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951. Jackson, John (tr.). Tacitus: The Annals. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1937. _____. Tacitus: The Annals. Volume IV. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1937. Johnston, Ian, and G.H.R. Horsley. Galen. Method of Medicine. Volumes I, II, and III. [LCL]. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2011. Kent, Roland G. (tr.). Varro. On the Latin Language. Volume I. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, first printed 1938. Ker, Walter C.A. (tr.). Cicero: Philippics. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1926. King, J.E. (tr.). Cicero: Tusculan Disputations. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1927. Magie, David (tr.). The Scriptores Historiae Augustae. Volume II. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1924. _____. The Scriptores Historiae Augustae. Volume III. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd., and New York, 1932. May, Herbert G., and Bruce M. Metzger (eds.). The Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha. New York: Oxford University Press, 1965.

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Warner, Rex (tr.). Fall of the Roman Republic: Six Lives by Plutarch. Baltimore: Penguin Books, first published 1958. Welles, C. Bradford (tr.). Diodorus of Sicily. Volume VIII. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann Ltd. and Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1963. Whiston, William (tr.). The Works of Josephus. Peabody MA: Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 1987. White, Horace (tr.). Appian’s Roman History. Volume III. [LCL]. London: William Heinemann, and New York: The MacMillan Co., 1913. Williams, W. Glynn (tr.). Cicero. The Letters to His Friends. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1929. _____. Cicero: The Letters to His Friends. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1929. Winstedt, E.O. (tr.). Cicero. Letters to Atticus. Volume II. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1913. _____. Cicero. Letters to Atticus. Volume III. [LCL]. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, and London: William Heinemann Ltd., first printed 1918.

Modern Sources Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Life and Leisure in Ancient Rome. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1969. Brain, Peter. Galen on Bloodletting: A Study of the Origins, Development and Validity of His Opinions, with a Translation of the Three Works. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Courtney, Edward. A Commentary on the Satires of Juvenal. London: The Athelone Press, 1980. Fagan, Garrett G. The Lure of the Arena: Social Psychology and the Crowd at the Roman Games. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Fiske, N.W. Classical Antiquities. Philadelphia: E.C. & J. Biddle, 1847. Friedlaender, Ludwig. Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire. Volume II (translated by J.H. Freese and Leonard A. Magnus) and Volume IV (translated by A.B. Gough). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd., reissued 1965 and 1968 respectively. Harris, H.A. Sport in Greece and Rome. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972. Humphrey, John H. Roman Circuses: Arenas for Chariot Racing. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. Jacobelli, Luciana. Gladiators at Pompeii. Los Angeles, CA: Getty Publications, first published in the United States in 2003. Lattimore, Richmond. Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962. Lesky, Albin. A History of Greek Literature (translated by James Willis and Cornelis de Heer). New York: Methuen & Co. Ltd., first published 1966. Lewis, Naphtali, and Meyer Reinhold. Roman Civilization Sourcebook I: The Republic. New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1951. Matz, David. Greek and Roman Sport: A Dictionary of Athletes and Events from the Eighth Century B.C. to the Third Century A.D. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1991. Mau, August. Pompeii: Its Life and Art (translated by Francis W. Kelsey). New York: The Macmillan Company, and London: Macmillan & Company Ltd., 1902. May, Herbert G., and Bruce M. Metzger (eds.). The Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha. New York: Oxford University Press, 1965. Meijer, Fik. Chariot Racing in the Roman Empire (translated by Liz Waters). Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004. Newby, Zahra. Greek Athletics in the Roman World: Victory and Virtue. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.

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Platner, Samuel and Thomas Ashby. A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome. London: Oxford University Press, 1929. Poulsen, Frederik. Etruscan Tomb Paintings: Their Subjects and Significance (translated by I., Andersen). Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1922. Ramsay, William. A Manual of Roman Antiquities. London: C. Griffin & Company, 1894. Scarborough, John. Roman Medicine. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1969. Sestieri, Pellegrino Claudio. The New Museum of Paestum. Rome: Instituto Poligraphrico dello Stato, 1965. Smith, Martin S. Petronii Arbitri: Cena Trimalchionis. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1975. Solomon, Jon. The Ancient World in the Cinema. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001. Welch, Katherine E. The Roman Amphitheater from Its Origins to the Colosseum. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Wiedemann, Thomas. Emperors and Gladiators. London: Routledge, 1992. Wright, H.P. Juvenal. New York: Ginn and Company, 1901.

Reference Works Cary, M., et al. (ed.). The Oxford Classical Dictionary. Oxford. The Clarendon Press, First published 1949. Glare, P.G.W. (ed.). Oxford Latin Dictionary. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, combined edition first published 1982. Howatson, M.C. (ed.). The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989. Lewis, Charlton T., and Charles Short. A Latin Dictionary. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, first published, 1879. Peck, Harry Thurston (ed.). Harper’s Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities. New York. First printing 1896. Zimmerman, J.E. Dictionary of Classical Mythology. New York: Harper & Row, first published 1964.

Index Atilius (builder of amphitheater that collapsed) 12 Atlas (charioteer in Scipio’s games) 146, 147, 148 Atticus (friend of Cicero) 21, 47, 105 Augustine, Saint 8–10, 205, 207 Augustus (emperor) 2, 4, 28, 43, 51, 103, 104, 114, 116, 117, 179, 200, 201, 204, 210, 214; autobiography (Res Gestae) 141–142; interest in Roman sports 22–24 Aulus Gellius (essayist) 13, 131, 134; biographical sketch 207 Aurelian guild of gladiators 24–26 Aurelius, Marcus (emperor) see Marcus Aurelius Ausonius (poet) 174, 175; biographical sketch 207

Aconteus (javelin thrower in Scipio’s games) 150 Actium, Battle of 22, 103, 204 administering a gladiatorial show 5–8 Aelius Marcion (trainer of gladiators) 131 Aemilius Celer ([possibly] an artist who created posters publicizing gladiatorial shows) 132 Aeneas (protagonist of Virgil’s Aeneid) 177, 202, 214; sponsor of funeral games in honor of his father, Anchises 30–35, 78– 79 Aeserninus (gladiator) 123 Aesius Proculus (conscripted gladiator) 37–38, 175 Alypius (friend of St. Augustine) 8–10 Amabilis (gladiator) 154 Ammianus Marcellinus (historian) attitude toward charioteers and circus spectators 10–11; biographical sketch 206 Andabata (pl. andabatae; type of gladiator) 48, 67, 185 Androcles (“physician” to a lion) 13–14 Anicetus (gladiator) 131 Apion (historian) 13–14 Apollonius (gladiator) 14–15 Appian (historian) 163, 166, 206 Appius Claudius Pulcher (politician) 47; unique method of entering the amphitheater 48 Appuleius Diocles (charioteer) 3, 61–62, 71, 72, 80, 114, 134–135, 152, 199, 205; career details 15–20 Apuleius, Lucius (fabulist) 81, 92, 206 Arvilius Teres (charioteer) 18–19 Asclepiades, Marcus Aurelius (pankratiast) 20 Athenaeus (historian) 68, 206–207 Athletae (athletes) passim, description 21– 22

Baeticus (foot racer in Scipio’s games) 148 beast hunts (staged in amphitheaters) 7, 22, 23, 36, 38, 53, 65, 74, 76, 102, 103, 108, 129, 142, 157, 191, 194 Bestiarii (beast fighters) 111, 112, 113, 126, 186, 196; description 26–27 betting 96, 194; on chariot races 27–28 boar hunting 29–30 boat racing, description of, in the funeral games for Anchises 30–32 boxing 1, 20, 21, 22, 24, 30, 73, 78, 91, 97, 115, 131, 157, 191, 194; description of, in the funeral games for Anchises 33–35 bread and circuses 35–36, 100, 101, 199 Burnus (javelin thrower in Scipio’s games) 150 Caesar see Julius Caesar Calamus (gladiator) 82 Caligula (emperor) 22, 25, 33, 70, 71, 83, 84, 85, 86, 154, 155, 156, 175, 199, 201, 204; interest in Roman sports 36–39

225

226

Index

Callisto (gladiator) 176 Callistus, Marcus Ulpius (attendant in the Ludus Magnus) 106–107 Calpenus, Quintus (conscripted gladiator) 97 Calpurnianus, Publius Aelius Gutta (charioteer) 123, 192; career details 39–42 Carpophorus (beast fighter) 26–27, 112–114 Cassiodorus (epistler) 27; biographical sketch 207; on chariot racing 42–44 Catianus (charioteer) 44–45 Celadus (gladiator) 6, 176 Chelidonius list of charioteers 45–46 Cicero, Marcus Tullius (orator, lawyer) 21, 62, 67, 84, 105, 122, 123, 129, 133, 134, 174, 189, 197, 200, 203, 204, 207, 212; on Roman gladiators 46–50 Circus Maximus 23, 24, 33, 71, 97, 101, 120, 130, 159, 160, 171, 186, 187, 192, 197, 198, 199, 210; architecture 50–51; history 51–52 Claudius (emperor) 28, 53–54, 59, 84, 114, 116, 117, 118, 145, 186, 204 Cloelia see swimming Coliseum (also known as the Flavian Amphitheater) 4, 50, 65, 105, 110, 111, 112, 117, 124, 158, 159–160, 172, 182, 190, 197, 201, 205, 210, 217; description 74–77 (under the heading “Flavian Amphitheater”); Martial’s poem on the dedication of the Coliseum 110–114 Columbus (gladiator) 39 Commodus (emperor) 25, 54–57, 86 Consentius (charioteer) 212; description of a chariot race in which he competed 57– 59 Crescens (charioteer) 59, 77 Crescens (gladiator) 59 Curio, Gaius Scribonius (owner of rotating amphitheater) 59–60 Cyrnus (charioteer in Scipio’s games) 146, 147, 148 Daedalus (beast fighter) 111 Dares (boxer in the funeral games for Anchises) 33–35 day at the races (basics of Roman chariot racing) 60–61 day at the shows (basics of gladiatorial shows) 62–65 Demochares (fictional show sponsor) 81 Dio Cassius (historian) 2, 47, 51, 52, 55, 56, 75, 76, 96, 97, 117, 154, 182, 219; biographical sketch 207–208 Diocles (charioteer) see Appuleius Diocles Diodorus Siculus (historian) 143; biographical sketch 208

Dionysius of Halicarnassus (historian) 73– 74; biographical sketch 208 Domitian (emperor) 10, 70, 103, 104, 105, 117, 175, 199, 201; interest in Roman sports 65–66 driverless horses 66 Durius (charioteer in Scipio’s games) 146, 147, 148 Edict of Diocletian 3 Entellus (boxer in the funeral games for Anchises) 33–35 Eppia (gladiator’s moll) 91, 99, 158 Essedaria (female) 125, 126, 188 Essedarius (pl. essedarii; a type of gladiator who fought from a chariot) 25, 38, 48, 108, 125, 180, 188; description 67–68 Etruscans 101, 167, 168, 200; originators of gladiatorial shows 68–70 Euryalus (foot racer in the funeral games for Anchises) 78–79 Eurytus (foot racer in Scipio’s games) 148, 149 Eusebius (historian): biographical sketch 208 factions 70–73; passim Fadius (conscripted gladiator) 84–85 Felix (gladiatorial school employee) 107 Flamma (gladiator) 154–155 Flavian Amphitheater see Coliseum Flavius Scorpus (charioteer) see Scorpus Florus (charioteer) 77–78 foot racing 1, 23, 33, 73, 124; description of, in the funeral games for Anchises 78–79 Frontinus, Sextus Julius (engineer): biographical sketch 208 Fronto, Marcus Cornelius (historian) 36; biographical sketch 208 Fulvius (gladiator) 123 Fulvius Nobilior, Marcus (show sponsor) 21, 26, 182 Furius Leptinus (conscripted gladiator) 97 Fuscus (charioteer) 216; career details 79– 81 Galen (physician to gladiators) 107; biographical sketch 208–209; career details 126–128 Glabrio, Manlius Acilius (gladiator) 104 gladiatorial cups 81–82 gladiatorial demographics 82–86 gladiatorial tesserae 86–87 Glaucus (gladiator) 87–88 Gracchus (gladiator) 98, 100, 142, 143

Index Hadrian (emperor) 205, 212; interest in Roman sports 88–89 Hermes (fictional gladiator) 89–92 Hermes (gladiator) 82 Hermogenes (napkin thief) 63 Herodian of Syria (historian) 56; biographical sketch 209 Hesperus (foot racer in Scipio’s games) 148, 149 Hiberus (charioteer in Scipio’s games) 146, 147, 148 Hippago (ship for transporting horses) 134, 189 Hoplomachus (type of gladiator) 25, 26, 175, 180, 189 Horatius (Horace, poet) 21, 33, 123, 153, 179, 197; biographical sketch 209–210 Horatius Cocles, swimming feat 167–168 hunting 92–94 Ilerdes (javelin thrower in Scipio’s games) 150 Incitatus (charioteer) 28, 96 Incitatus (race horse) 96, 153 Indibilis (javeline thrower in Scipio’s games) 150 Isidorus of Seville (historian) 68–69; biographical sketch 209 Josephus (historian) 84; biographical sketch 209 Julius Caesar 13, 23, 52, 97, 104, 116, 133, 167, 168–169, 178, 179, 182, 198, 200, 203, 204, 209, 214; on essedarii (chariot fighters) 67–68 Junius Brutus, Decimus (show sponsor) 200 Juvenal (poet) 28, 63, 71, 86, 91, 143, 144, 158–159, 176, 179, 180, 186, 199; his “bread and circuses” comment 35–36; references to Roman sports in his poems 98–102; on female gladiators 102–103; biographical sketch 209–210 Lacerta (charioteer) 99 Lanista (trainer or owner of gladiators) 69, 99, 101, 108, 186 Lentulus Batiatus (owner of gladiatorial school) 162–163 Livineius Regulus (show sponsor) 144–145 Livy (historian) 21, 33, 51, 68, 85, 86, 100, 153, 197, 198, 212; biographical sketch 210 Lucian (essayist) 161; biographical sketch 210 Ludus 103–104 Ludus (gladiatorial school in Pompeii) 108–109

227

Ludus Gladiatorius (gladiatorial school) 104–105 Ludus Magnus (gladiatorial school in Rome) 105–108, 156 Ludus Matutinus (gladiatorial school) 108 Lydia (hunting dog) 110 Marcus Aurelius (emperor) 54–57, 107, 205, 208, 209; biographical sketch 210 Martial (poet) 26, 28, 44, 63, 75, 96, 100, 117, 152, 153; biographical sketch 210; on dedication of the Coliseum 110–114; poem about the fictional gladiator Hermes 89–92; on Roman sports 109–110 Maximianus Aureus (gladiator) 154 Merops (gladiator) 82 Mevia (female beast fighter) 102 Murmillo (pl. murmillones; heavily armed type of gladiator, often matched against a retiarius) 25, 39, 65, 82, 86, 107, 108, 142, 144 Musclosus (charioteer) 114 Musical performances 114–115 Myrinus (gladiator) 63, 112 Narcissus (athlete who assassinated emperor Commodus) 57 Naumachiae (mock naval battles) 22, 23, 54, 65, 114, 142, 199; history and description 115–118 Nemesis (as a factor in a gladiator’s demise) 88 Nero (emperor) 43, 52, 55, 70, 71, 74–75, 82, 86, 104, 111, 114, 145, 192, 199, 201, 204, 212; interest in Roman sports 118–120 Nerva (emperor) 59, 205 Nigidius, Gnaeus Alleus (show sponsor) 5, 132 Nisus (foot racer in the funeral games for Anchises) 78–79 Norbanus (fictional show sponsor) 64, 126 Nymphodotus (employee of Ludus Magnus) 106 Olympus, Marcus Julius (lanista) 108 Ovid (poet) 28, 29, 51, 64, 186, 195, 209; biographical sketch 210; poem about efforts to attract a lady at the chariot races 121–122 Pacideianus (gladiator) 122–123 Palumbus (gladiator) 54 Parmularius (term for a fan of Thracian gladiators) 175, 191–192 Pedibus ad quadrigam (charioteering technical term) 123–124

228

Index

Petraites (gladiator) 82 Petronius (novelist) 29, 68, 70, 82, 106, 186; biographical sketch 211; references to Roman sports in novel Trimalchio’s Dinner [Cena Trimalchionis] 124–126 Phileros (gladiator) 180 Philoromus (charioteer) 10–11 Pliny the Elder (natural scientist) 52, 60, 66, 134, 160, 176, 182, 194, 219; biographical sketch 211 Pliny the Younger (epistler) 29–30, 52, 66, 176–177, 205, 213; biographical sketch 211; disdain for Roman chariot racing 128– 129 Plutarch (biographer) 62, 141, 163, 164, 166; biographical sketch 211 Polybius (historian) 169, 170; biographical sketch 211 Pompeii 5, 6, 59, 132, 144–145, 175, 205 Pompeius Musclosus (charioteer) 19 Pompey the Great 21, 123, 165, 166, 182, 204; games sponsored in 55 B.C.E. 129– 130 Pompilus (gladiator) 6 Pontius Epaphroditus (charioteer) 19 Porius (gladiator) 38 Priscus (gladiator) 63, 113 Probus, Marcus Aurelius (emperor) 130 Provocator (pl. provocatores; a type of gladiator) 25, 49, 192, 194; description 131 Prudens (gladiator) 82 publicizing gladiatorial shows 131–133 Quintilian (orator) 144, 175; biographical sketch 212; hypothetical gladiator in one of his declamations 94–96 race horses: in essay by Plutarch 141; list of names 135–140 Raven (charioteer) 66 Retiarius (pl. retiarii; lightly armed type of gladiator, often matched against a murmillo or a secutor) 2, 25, 37, 59, 69, 87, 90, 92, 98, 100, 108, 131, 153, 197, 180, 181; description 142–144 riot (59 C.E. in an amphitheater) 144–145 Romulus (first king of Rome) 170–172, 197, 202 Rutilius (fictional volunteer gladiator) 101 Rutuba (gladiator) 123 Rutumenna (charioteer) 66 Salvius Capito (owner of gladiators) 179– 180 Samnite see Secutor Scaurus, Marcus Aemilius (politician) 60

Scipio’s funeral games 145–150 Scirtus (charioteer) 150–152 Scorpus, Flavius (charioteer) 19, 28, 96, 109, 110; career details 152–153 Secundus (gladiator who lived to age 99) 155–156 Secutor (pl. secutores; also known as Samnite/Samnites; a type of heavily armed gladiator, often matched against a retiarius) 37, 49, 50, 131, 159, 175, 180, 192, 193; description 153–155 selling gladiators 156 Seneca the Younger (philosopher) 26, 28, 62–63, 68, 83, 86, 108, 182; biographical sketch 212; description of brutality in gladiatorial shows 83; on Roman sports 156–157 Septimius Severus (emperor) 157–158 Sergius (gladiator) 91, 98; anecdote about dalliance with Eppia, a senator’s wife 158–159 Sestius, Publius (politician) 46, 48, 133, 134 Sidonius, Gaius Sollius Apollinaris (poet) 57; biographical sketch 212 Silius Italicus (historian) 145; biographical sketch 212 Sisinnes (accidental gladiator) 161–162 Spartacus (gladiator and insurrectionist) 104, 162–167, 200, 203, 206 Speces (gladiator) 176 Spiculus (gladiator) 82 Suetonius (biographer) 25, 28, 33, 37, 52, 53, 54, 62, 70, 74, 83, 84, 86, 143, 154, 175, 182; biographical sketch 213 swimming 1, 67, 99, 100, 164, 178; feats of Cloelia, Horatius Cocles, Julius Caesar, and Publius Scaevius 167–169 Tacitus (historian) 11–12, 29, 30, 101, 116, 144, 145, 187, 205; biographical sketch 213 Tarquinius Priscus (early Roman king) 21, 33, 104, 197 Tartessus (foot racer in Scipio’s games) 148 Terence (playwright) 21, 33; biographical sketch 213 Tertullian (early Christian writer) 29, 69, 83, 182; biographical sketch 213; commentary on Roman sports and spectacles 170–174 Thallus (charioteer) 109, 152 Theron (foot racer in Scipio’s games) 148, 149 Thomas (charioteer) 42 Thracian (also known as Thraex; a kind of heavily armed gladiator) 14, 15, 25, 26,

Index 39, 64, 65, 66, 126, 159, 179, 180, 191, 192, 194, 195; description 174–176 Tiberius (emperor) 65, 86, 204 Tigris (employee in the Ludus Magnus) 106 Titus (emperor) 63, 75–76, 84, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 117, 175 Trajan (emperor) 52, 66, 107, 205, 211; as hunter and sailor 176–177 Trimalchio (protagonist in the section of Petronius’ Trimalchio’s Dinner) 29, 64, 68, 70, 82, 125, 211 Triumphus (gladiator) 86, 112 Troy Game 23, 36, 53, 97, 103, 104, 203; description 177–179

229

Unnamed retiarius 2; description 181–182 Valens, Decimus Lucretius Satrius (show sponsor) 132 Vatinius, Publius (politician, “the best hated man of his time”) 48–49, 131, 133– 134 Vela (awnings) 5, 77, 131, 132, 133, 195 Venatio (mock wild beast hunt) 5, 131, 132, 133, 195–196; description 182–183 Venatores (beast hunters) 26, 81, 126, 182, 186, 196 Verus (gladiator) 63, 113 Vespasian (emperor) 75, 84, 204 Vitellius (emperor) 70, 84, 199, 204