body, awaking from its late timidity, determined to mark the day with a
decree worthy of its past history. With unanimous decision they
pronounced Nero a tyrant who had trampled on all laws, human and divine,
and condemned him to suffer death with all the rigor of the ancient
laws.
While this revolution was taking place in the city the terror-stricken
Nero was still in frantic flight. He passed the Praetorian camp near
enough to hear loud acclamations, among which the name of Galba reached
his ear. As the small cavalcade hastened by a man early at work in the
fields, he looked up and said, "These people must be hot in pursuit of
Nero." A short distance farther another hailed them, asking, "What do
they say of Nero in the city?"
A more alarming event occurred soon. As they drew near Phaon's house the
horse of Nero started at a dead carcass beside the road, shaking down
the handkerchief by which he had concealed his face. The movement
revealed him to a veteran soldier, then on his way to Rome, and ignorant
of what was taking place in the city. He recognized and saluted the
emperor by name.
This incident increased Nero's fear. His route of flight would now be
known. He pressed his horse to the utmost speed until Phaon's house was
close at hand. They now halted and Nero dismounted, it being thought
unsafe for him to enter the house publicly. He crossed a field overgrown
with reeds, and, being tortured with thirst, scooped up some water from
a muddy ditch and drank it, saying, dolefully, "Is this the beverage
which Nero has been used to drink?"
Phaon advised him to conceal himself in a neighboring sand-pit, from
which could be opened for him a subterraneous passage to the house, but
Nero refused, saying that he did not care to be buried alive. His
companions then made an opening in the wall on one side of the house,
through which Nero crept on his hands and knees. Entering a wretched
chamber, he threw himself on a mean bed, which was covered with a
tattered coverlet, and asked for some refreshment.
All they could offer him was a little coarse bread, so black that the
sight of it sickened his dainty taste, and some warm and foul water,
which thirst forced him to drink. His friends meanwhile were in little
less desperation than himself. They saw that no hope was left and that
his place of concealment would soon be known, and entreated him to avoid
a disgraceful death by taking his own life.
Nero promised to do so, but still sought reasons for delay. His funeral
must be prepared for, he said, and bade them to dig a grave, to prepare
wood for a funeral pile, and bring marble to cover his remains.
Meanwhile he piteously bewailed his unhappy lot; sighed and shed tears
copiously; and said, with a last impulse of vanity, "What a musician the
world will lose!"
While he thus in cowardly procrastination delayed the inevitable end, a
messenger, whom Phaon had ordered to bring news from Rome, arrived with
papers. These Nero eagerly seized and read. He found himself dethroned,
declared a public enemy, and condemned to suffer death with the rigor of
ancient usage. Such was the decree of the senate, which hitherto had
been his subservient slave.
"Ancient usage?" he asked. "What do they mean? What kind of death is
that?"
"It is this," they told him. "Every traitor, by the law of the old
republic, with his head fastened between two stakes, and his body
stripped naked, was slowly flogged to death by the lictors' rods."
Dread of this terrible and ignominious punishment roused the trembling
wretch to some semblance of courage. He produced two daggers, which he
had brought with him, and tried their points. Then he replaced them in
their scabbards, saying, "The fatal moment is not yet come."
Turning to Sporus, he said, "Sing the melancholy dirge, and offer the
last obsequies to your friend." Then, rolling his eyes wildly around, he
exclaimed, "Why will not some one of you kill himself, and teach me how
to die?"
He paused a moment. No one seemed inclined to adopt his suggestion. A
flood of tears burst from his eyes. Starting up, he cried, in a tone of
wild despair, "Nero, this is infamy; you linger in disgrace; this is no
time for dejected passions; this moment calls for manly fortitude."
These words were hardly spoken when the sound of horses was heard
advancing rapidly towards the house. Theatrical to the end, he repeated
a line from Homer which the noise of hoofs recalled to his mind. At
length, driven to desperation, he seized his dagger and stabbed himself
in the throat,--but cowardice made the stroke too feeble. Epaphroditus
now lent his aid, and the next thrust was a mortal one.
It was time. The horses were those of pursuers. The senate, informed of
his probable place of refuge, had sent soldiers in haste to bring him
back to Rome, there to suffer the punishment decreed. In a minute
afterwards a centurion entered the room, and, seeing Nero prostrate and
bleeding, ran to his aid, saying that he would bind the wound and save
his life.
Nero looked up languidly, and said, in faint tones, "You come too late.
Is this your fidelity?" In a moment more he expired.
In the words of Tacitus, "The ferocity of his nature was still visible
in his countenance. His eyes fixed and glaring, and every feature
swelled with warring passions, he looked more stern, more grim, more
terrible than ever."
Nero was in his thirty-second year. He had reigned nearly fourteen
years. Tacitus says of him, "The race of Caesars ended with Nero; he was
the last, and perhaps the worst, of that illustrious house."
The tidings of his death filled Rome with joy. Men ran wildly about the
streets, their heads covered with liberty caps. Acclamations of gladness
resounded in the Forum. Icelus, Galba's freedman and agent in Rome, whom
Nero had thrown into prison, was released and took control of affairs.
He ordered that Nero's body should be burned where he had died, and this
was done so quickly and secretly that many would not believe that he was
dead. The report got abroad that he had escaped to Asia or Egypt, and
from time to time impostors appeared claiming to be Nero. The Parthians
were deluded by one of these impostors and offered to defend his cause.
Another made trouble in the Greek islands. Nero's profligate companions
in Rome, who alone mourned his death, while affecting to believe him
still alive raised a tomb to his memory, which for several years they
annually dressed with the flowers of spring and summer. But the world at
large rejoiced in its delivery from the rule of a monster of iniquity.
_THE SPORTS OF THE AMPHITHEATRE._
In no other nation upon the earth and no other period of history has
enjoyment taken so cruel and brutal a shape as in the Roman empire. The
fierce people of the imperial city seemed to have a native thirst for
blood and misery, which no amount of slaughter in the arena, of the
sufferings of captives and slaves, or of the torments of persecuted
Christians sufficed to assuage. The love of theatrical representations,
which has proved so potent and unceasing with other nations, had but a
brief period of prevalence in Rome, its milder enjoyment vanishing
before the wild excitement of the gladiatorial struggle and the
spectacle of rending beasts and slaughtered martyrs.
It was not in the theatre, but in the amphitheatre, that the Romans
sought their chief enjoyment, and few who wished the favor of the Roman
people failed to seek it by the easy though costly means of gladiatorial
shows. The amphitheatre differed from the theatre in forming a complete
circle or oval instead of a semicircle, with an arena in the centre
instead of a stage at the side. It also greatly surpassed the theatre in
size, the purpose being to see, not to hear.
These buildings were at first temporary edifices of wood, but of
enormous size, since one which collapsed at Fidenae, during the reign of
Tiberius, is said to have caused the death of fifty thousand spectators.
The first of stone was built by the command of Augustus. But the great
amphitheatre of Rome, the Flavian, whose mighty ruins we possess in the
Colosseum, was that begun by Vespasian, and finished by Titus ten years
after the destruction of Jerusalem.
This vast building is elliptical in shape and covers about five acres of
ground, being six hundred and twelve feet in its greatest length and
five hundred and fifteen in greatest breadth. It is based on rows of
arches, eighty in number, and rises in four different orders of
architecture to a height of about one hundred and sixty feet. The
outside of this great edifice was encrusted with marble and decorated
with statues. Interiorly its vast slopes presented sixty or eighty rows
of marble seats, covered with cushions, and capable of seating more than
eighty thousand spectators. There were sixty-four doors of entrance and
exit, and the entrances, passages, and stairs were so skilfully
constructed that every person could with ease and safety reach and leave
his place.
Nothing was omitted that could add to the pleasure and convenience of
the spectators. An ample canopy, drawn over their heads, protected them
from the sun and the rain. Fountains refreshed the air with cooling
moisture, and aromatics profusely perfumed the air. In the centre was
the arena or stage, strewn with fine sand, and capable of being changed
to suit varied spectacles. Now it appeared to rise out of the earth,
like the gardens of the Hesperides; now it was made to represent the
rocks and caverns of Thrace. Water was abundantly supplied by concealed
pipes, and the sand-strewn plain might at will be converted into a wide
lake, sustaining armed vessels, and displaying the swimming monsters of
the deep.
In these spectacles the Roman emperors loved to display their wealth. On
various occasions the whole furniture of the amphitheatre was of amber,
silver, or gold, and in one display the nets provided for defence
against wild beasts were of gold wire, the porticos were gilded, and the
belt or circle that divided the several ranks of spectators was studded
with a precious mosaic of beautiful stones. In the dedication of this
mighty edifice five thousand wild beasts were slain in the arena, the
games lasting one hundred days.
The first show of gladiators in Rome was one given by Marcus and Decius
Brutus, on the occasion of the death of their father, 264 B.C. Three
pairs of gladiators fought in this first contest. This gladiatorial
spectacle was continued on funeral occasions, but afterwards lost its
religious character and became a popular amusement, there being schools
for the training of gladiators, whose pupils were recruited from the
captives of Rome, from condemned criminals, and from vigorous men
desirous of fame.
As time went on the magnificence of these spectacles increased. Julius
Caesar gave one in which three hundred and twenty combatants fought.
Trajan far surpassed this with a show that lasted for one hundred and
twenty-three days, and in which ten thousand men fought with each other
or with wild beasts for the pleasure of the Roman populace.
The gladiators were variously armed, some with sword, shield, and body
armor; some with net and trident; some with noose or lasso. The disarmed
or overthrown gladiator was killed or spared in response to signals made
by the thumbs of the spectators; while the successful combatant was
rewarded at first with a palm branch, afterwards with money and rich and
valuable presents.
[Illustration: ROMAN CHARIOT RACE.]
The gladiators were not always passive instruments of Roman cruelty. We
have elsewhere described the revolt of Spartacus and his brave struggle
for liberty. Other outbreaks took place. During the reign of Probus a
revolt of about eighty gladiators out of a school of some six hundred
filled Rome with death and alarm. Killing their keepers, they broke into
the streets, which they set afloat with blood, and only after an
obstinate resistance and ample revenge were they at length overpowered
and cut to pieces by the soldiers of the city. But such outbreaks were
but few, and the Roman multitude usually enjoyed its cruel sports in
safety.
We cannot here describe the many remarkable displays made by successive
emperors, and which grew more lavish as time went on. Probus, about 280
A.D., gave a show in which the arena was transformed into a forest,
large trees, dug up by the roots, being transported and planted
throughout its space. In this miniature forest were set free a thousand
ostriches, and an equal number each of stags, fallow deer, and wild
boars. These were given to the multitude to assail and slay at their
will. On the following day, the populace being now safely screened from
danger, there were slain in the arena a hundred lions, as many
lionesses, two hundred leopards, and three hundred bears.
The younger Gordian, in his triumphal games, astonished the Romans by
the strangeness of the animals displayed, in search of which the whole
known world was ransacked. The curious mob now beheld the graceful forms
of twenty zebras, and the remarkable stature of ten giraffes, brought
from remote African plains. There were shown, in addition, ten elks, as
many tigers from India, and thirty African hyenas. To these were added a
troop of thirty-two elephants, and the uncouth forms of the hippopotamus
of the Nile and the rhinoceros of the African wilds. These animals,
familiar to us, were new to their observers, and filled the minds of
their spectators with wonder and awe.
Gladiators, as we have said, were not confined to slaves, captives, and
criminals. Roman citizens, emulous of the fame and rewards of the
successful combatant, entered their ranks, and men of birth and fortune,
thirsting for the excitement of the arenal strife, were often seen in
the lists. In the reign of Nero, senators, and even women of high birth,
appeared as combatants; and Domitian arranged a battle between dwarfs
and women. As late as 200 A.D. an edict forbidding women to fight became
necessary.
The emperors, as a rule, were content with sending their subjects to
death in those frightful shows; but one of them, Commodus, proud of his
strength and skill, himself entered the lists as a combatant. He was at
first content with displaying his remarkable skill as an archer against
wild animals. With arrows whose head was shaped like a crescent, he cut
asunder the long neck of the ostrich, and with the strength of his bow
pierced alike the thick skin of the elephant and the scaly hide of the
rhinoceros. A panther was let loose and a slave forced to act as its
prey. But at the instant when the beast leaped upon the man the shaft of
Commodus flew, and the animal fell dead, leaving its prey unhurt. No
less than a hundred lions were let loose at once in the arena, and the
death-dealing darts of the emperor hurtled among them until they all
were slain.
During this exhibition of skill the emperor was securely protected
against any chance danger from his victims. But later, to the shame and
indignation of the people, he entered the arena as a gladiator, and
fought there no less than seven hundred and thirty-five times. He was
well protected, wearing the helmet, shield, and sword of the _Secutor_,
while his antagonists were armed with the net and trident of the
_Retiarius_. It was the aim of the latter to entangle his opponent in
the net and then despatch him with the trident, and if he missed he was
forced to fly till he had prepared his net for a second throw.
As may be imagined, in these contests Commodus was uniformly successful.
His opponents were schooled not to put forth their full skill, and were
usually given their lives in reward. But the emperor claimed the prize
of the successful gladiator, and himself fixed this reward at so high a
price that to pay it became a new tax on the Roman people. Commodus, we
may say here, met with the usual fate of the base and cruel emperors of
Rome, falling by the hands of assassins.
The gladiatorial shows were not without their opponents in Rome. Under
the republic efforts were made to limit the number of combatants and the
frequency of the displays, and the Emperor Augustus forbade more than
two shows in a year. They were prohibited by Constantine, the first
Christian emperor, in 325 A.D., but continued at intervals till 404. In
that year Telemachus, an Asiatic monk, filled with horror at the cruelty
of the practice, made his way to Rome, and during a contest rushed into
the arena and tried to part two gladiators.
The spectators, furious at this interruption of their sport, stoned the
monk to death. But the Emperor Honorius proclaimed him a martyr, and
issued an edict which finally brought such exhibitions to an end.
There was another form of spectacle at Rome, in its way as significant
of cruelty and ruthlessness, the Triumph, each occasion of which
signified some nation conquered or army defeated, and thousands slain or
plunged into misery and destitution. The victorious general to whom the
senate granted the honor of a triumph was not allowed to enter the city
in advance, and Lucullus, on his return from victory in Asia, waited
outside Rome for three years, until the desired honor was granted him.
Starting from the Field of Mars, outside the city walls, the procession
passed through the gayly garlanded streets to the Capitol. It was headed
by the magistrates and senate of Rome, who were followed by trumpeters,
and then by the spoils of war, consisting not only of treasures and
standards, but of representations of battles, towns, fortresses, rivers,
etc.
Next came the victims intended for sacrifice, largely composed of white
oxen with gilded horns. They were followed by prisoners kept to grace
the triumph, and who were put to death when the Capitol was reached.
Afterwards came the gorgeous chariot of the conqueror, crowned with
laurel and drawn by four horses. He wore robes of purple and gold taken
from the temple of Jupiter, carried a laurel branch in his right hand,
and in his left a sceptre of ivory with an eagle at its tip. After him
came the soldiers, singing _Io triumphe_ and other songs of victory.
On reaching the Capitol the victor placed the laurel branch on the cap
of the seated Jupiter, and offered the thank-offerings. A feast of the
dignitaries, and sometimes of the soldiers and people, followed. The
ceremony at first occupied one day only, but in later times was extended
through several days, and was frequently attended with gladiatorial
shows and other spectacles for the greater enjoyment of the Roman
multitude.
_THE REIGN OF A GLUTTON._
The death of Nero cut all the reins of order in Rome. Until now, as
stated in a preceding tale, some form of hereditary succession had been
followed, the emperors being of the family of Caesar, though not his
direct descendants. Now confusion reigned supreme. The army took upon
itself the task of nominating the emperor, and within less than two
years four emperors came in succession to the royal seat, each the
general of one of the armies of Rome.
Galba, who headed the revolt against Nero, and succeeded him on the
throne, reigned but seven months, being overthrown by Otho, who
conspired against him with the Praetorian guards. The new emperor reigned
only three months. The army of Germany proclaimed their
general--Vitellius--emperor, marched against Otho, and defeated him. He
ended the contest by committing suicide. Vitellius reigned less than a
year. The army of the East rebelled against him, proclaimed their
general--Vespasian--emperor, and a new civil war broke out, which was
closed by the speedy downfall of Vitellius. It is the story of this man,
emperor for less than a year, which we have here to describe.
The three men named were alike unfit to reign over Rome. Galba was very
old and very incompetent, Otho was a declared profligate, and Vitellius
was a glutton of such extraordinary powers that his name has become a
synonyme for voracity. He had by his arts and his skill as a courtier
made himself a favorite with four emperors of widely differing
character,--Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero. The suicide of Otho
had now made him emperor himself, and he gave way without stint to the
peculiar vice which has made his name despicable, that of inordinate
love of the pleasures of the table.
After the death of Otho, says Tacitus, "Vitellius, sunk in sloth, and
growing every day more contemptible, advanced by slow marches towards
the city of Rome. In all the villas and municipal towns through which he
passed, carousing festivals were sufficient to retard a man abandoned to
his pleasures. He was followed by an unwieldy multitude, not less than
sixty thousand men in arms, all corrupted by a life of debauchery. The
number of retainers and followers of the army was still greater, all
disposed to riot and insolence, even beyond the natural bent of the
vilest slaves.
"The crowd was still increased by a conflux of senators and Roman
knights, who came from Rome to greet the prince on his way; some
impelled by fear, others to pay their court, and numbers, not to be
thought sullen or disaffected. All went with the current. The populace
rushed forth in crowds, accompanied by an infamous band of pimps,
players, buffoons, and charioteers, by their utility in vicious
pleasures all well known and dear to Vitellius.
"To supply so vast a body with provisions the colonies and municipal
cities were exhausted; the fruits of the earth, then ripe and fit for
use, were carried off; the husbandman was plundered; and his land, as if
it were an enemy's country, was laid waste and ruined."
[Illustration: THE COLISEUM AT ROME.]
The followers of Vitellius were many of them Germans and Gauls, so
savage of aspect as to create consternation in Rome. "Covered with the
skins of savage beasts, and wielding large and massive spears, the
spectacle which they exhibited to the Roman citizens was fierce and
hideous." They were as savage as they looked, and many conflicts took
place both outside and inside of Rome, in which numbers of citizens were
slaughtered. In fact, the march of Vitellius to Rome was almost like
that of a conqueror through a captive province.
The conduct of Vitellius and his army in Rome was an abhorrent spectacle
of sloth and licentiousness. All discipline vanished. The Germans and
Gauls entered into the vilest habits of the city, and by their
disorderly lives brought on an epidemic disease which swept thousands of
them away. Vitellius, lost in sluggishness and gluttony, wasted the
funds of the state on his pleasures, and laid severe taxes to raise new
funds. "To squander with wild profusion," says Tacitus, "was the only
use of money known to Vitellius. He built a set of stables for the
charioteers, and kept in the circus a constant spectacle of gladiators
and wild beasts; in this manner dissipating with prodigality, as if his
treasury overflowed with riches."
While the Vitellian army was indulging in riot, bloodshed, and vice,
and the populace was kept amused by the frightful gladiatorial shows,
the emperor spent his days in a sloth and gluttony that stand unrivalled
in imperial records. We may quote from Whyte-Melville's romance of "The
Gladiators" a sketch of a Vitellian banquet whose characteristic
features are taken from exact history: