THE AMPHITHEATRE.
The Colosseum or amphitheatre in Rome was a gigantic, costly building,
oval in shape, 100 feet in height, 1900 feet in circumference, and
capable of seating 100,000 spectators--a huge egg laid by Imperial
power and demoniac love of pleasure. Its external wall rose up in
three rows of columns, Doric, Ionic and Corinthian, forming 80 arcades
or arches in each row, and was capped by a solid wall with Corinthian
pilasters and small square windows. There was no roof, shelter from
sun or rain being given by a movable awning called the _velarium_. The
higher arcades were adorned with statues and chariots, and admitted
light and air. Four of the basement arches at the extremities were the
entrances for the great, while the remaining seventy-six were for the
common people. Rising from the top of a low wall or balcony that stood
on the ground many feet inward, was the _gradus_ or slope of seats,
which extended half-way up the high surrounding shell. The highest
seats were a colonnade or portico reserved for women. On the slope
under the portico, were the three _maeniana_ or galleries, separated by
walls and by landing places for the many staircases. The uppermost
gallery, with benches of wood, was for the _pullati_ or common people;
the next below, for the _popularia_; and the farthest down, of stone or
marble and cushioned, for members of the equestrian order. Below this
was the inner wall or balcony (referred to above), called the _podium_,
the place of honour, on which sat the Emperor and his family, senators,
chief magistrates, vestal virgins, and distinguished visitors. The
Emperor occupied a pavilion, named the _suggestus_, while the others
sat on cushioned chairs or reclined on couches. The _podium_ was about
15 feet from the ground, its edge bordered with metal trellis work, and
its front faced with marble, to prevent the ascent of wild beasts when
frightened or enraged. The arena was the immense space within, being
about 281 feet by 176, and it was covered with sand, to keep the
combatants from slipping and to absorb their blood. Here some of the
martyrs of Jesus poured out their life, to gratify horrible curiosity,
and to satiate the hunger of lions.
On a certain day in the latter half of the third century after Christ,
and while the pagan Roman empire still held powerful sway, many
thousands of people had assembled in the amphitheatre to witness a
series of blood-curdling sights and combats. Among these sad
spectacles was the suffering of a noted Christian from the rugged
province of Lycia.
Demonicus, the great gladiator of Patara city, had fallen, his left
cheek was embedded in the sand, his brawny upper arm lay out limp
beside his broken sword, and his life-blood was streaming away. He
would indulge in the love of strife and watch the footsteps of the
innocent for glittering gold no more. His conqueror, Telassar, a big
bearded warrior from Rhaetia, stood erect and proud, with his right
foot on the gladiator's neck, and drinking in the applause that flowed
from the encircling host of sensation-loving, heartless spectators.
After a fierce and prolonged battle, several other gladiators had
ploughed the sand in strange quick succession. Here, face downward,
was a Samnite with his oblong shield; yonder lay a bare headed
_retiarius_ with his net and three-pointed lance. Twenty feet from
Demonicus, a horseman clad in cuirass and helmet was stretched upon his
back wounded and dying, with his round shield and lance lying near.
His handsome black charger had instantly wheeled round, and it now
stood over him with lowered neck in beautiful faithfulness, a tribute
to its master's care and kindness. The other combatants were being
hooked and drawn away like logs into the _spoliarium_, the grim
receptacle for slaughtered men; the expiring horseman's turn would soon
come. His rival had also reeled and tumbled down, the result of
exhaustion from a severe wound received earlier in the fray. Aided by
an official called a _lanista_, the victor's struggles to rise up and,
when risen, to keep on his feet, were pitiable in the extreme.
Deprived of its rider, his spirited grey horse, itself slightly
wounded, was bounding round the arena like a frightened antelope. And
considering that there was a circumference of 900 feet in which to
galop and wheel, it gave its pursuers no small degree of trouble.
This state of affairs, coupled with the usual breathing time before the
next act in the tragic drama, allowed the horde of onlookers an
opportunity for a little conversation and even merriment. In the
presence of such horrifying sport with human life, the heathen heart
revealed its kinship with the fallen angels of "Paradise Lost."
Nevertheless in that Roman pandemonium there were exceptions--a few
hearts of a different cast, in which was at work a silent influence,
destined in regal hands to reform the world.