having received some money, admitted us to the sight of a long flight of
marble steps, which appeared to descend into the bowels of the earth, far
below the foundation of the Amphitheatre. “Come along, masters,” quoth he;
“we had better go down this way, for we shall have a better view of the
animals so, than on the other side. My master, Sabinus, will tell you all,
that old Aspar knows as much about these things as any Numidian in the
place.”—“Indeed, since friend Bisbal is gone,” quoth the Centurion, “there
is not another of these that is to be compared to you.”—“Ah!” replied
Aspar, “Bisbal was a great man; there is not a feeder in Rome that is
worthy to tie the latchet of his sandals, if he were alive.”—“Why, as to
that,” said the other, “old Bisbal was very seldom worth a pair of sandals
worth the tying, when he was alive; but, come on, we have no great leisure
for talking now, and Aspar shall shew a lion with any Bisbal that ever
wielded whip.—Come on.”
We soon reached a large vaulted place, apparently below the Amphitheatre,
the sides of which were almost entirely covered with iron-gratings,—while
up and down the open space were strolling many strange groupes of men,
connected in different capacities with the bloody spectacles of the arena.
On one hand, we saw some of the gladiators, who had already been
combating, walking to and fro with restless and agitated steps, as if they
had not yet been able to recover themselves from the excitement into which
their combats had thrown them. Even of such as had been victorious, I
observed that not a few partook in all these symptoms of uneasiness; and
the contrast thus exhibited to the haughty mien of calmness they had so
lately been displaying, affected me with a strange sense of the irrational
and inhuman life these unhappy persons were condemned by folly or
necessity to lead. The blood had forsaken the lips and cheeks of others,
and from the fixed stare of their eyes, it appeared that their minds were
entirely withdrawn from every thing passing around them. Their limbs, so
recently nerved to the utmost show of vigour, were now relaxed and
unstrung, and they trod the marble floor with heavy and straggling feet.
But they that appeared to me to be in the most wretched state, were such
as, they told us, expected to be led forth shortly to contend with the
wild beasts, in whose immediate vicinity they were now walking. The
summons to battle with a human opponent calls into action the fierceness
and the pride of man; but he that has to fight with a beast, how should he
not be weighed down with the sense of mortal degradation; how should the
Reason that is in him not fill him, in such a prospect, with dispiriting
and humbling, rather than with strengthening and stimulating thoughts?
Howbeit, the Centurion, although the most good-natured of mankind, being
rendered from custom quite callous to these things, immediately entered
into conversation with some of those unfortunates, in a tone of coolness
and unconcern that shocked me the more, because it did not seem in the
smallest degree to shock them. Among other topics, he enlarged at much
length to one of them upon the best method of evading the attack of a
tiger.
“Look ye now,” said he, “there are some that are always for taking things,
as they call it, in good time,—these will be pointing their swords before
the creature makes his spring; but I have seen what comes of that, and so
has old Aspar here, if he would be honest enough to confess it. The true
way is to watch his eye when he is setting; let him fairly fix upon his
mark, and spring; but at the moment when he is taking his leap, then is
the time for the gladiator to start aside, and have at him with a
side-thrust. Your side-thrust is the only one I would lay an _as_
upon.”—“Yea,” quoth the grinning Aspar,—“it was always on your cool steady
side-thrust, the moment he had sprung, that the great Bisbal used to stake
himself. Ha! ha! I was fond of the side-thrust in my day myself; but I got
a scratch once—witness my poor leg, masters,—and since then I am a poor
feeder.”—“I was always clear for the side-thrust,” quoth Sabinus. “I never
saw it fail but twice, and then, to be sure, the men died; but they could
have had no chance at all with the frontguard; and it is always
something,” continued he, clapping one of the poor expecting gladiators on
the back,—“it is always something to have a chance. Be sure you try him
with the side-thrust, if it come to your turn to-day.”
The poor creature—he also was an African—lifted up his head on being so
addressed, and shewed all his white teeth in a melancholy attempt at a
smile; but said not a word in reply, and forthwith became as downcast as
before. But the Centurion took little or no heed of the manner in which
his advice had been received. He contemplated the man’s figure for a
moment, as if to form some judgment concerning the measure of his
strength; and after doing the like in regard to some of his companions,
commanded Aspar to shew us where the prime lions of the day were reposing.
The Numidian seized a long pole that was leaning against one of the
pillars of the vault, and led us to a certain part of the grated wall,
behind which was the den, wherein six monstrous Atlantic lions were kept.
I looked in upon them with wonder, and not without dread, through the iron
net-work of the doors. An imperfect gleam of light descended from above
upon their tawny hides and glaring eyes. They, like the gladiators, seemed
also to be preparing for the combat; but not like them in fear, nor in
cold dewy tremors; for the deprivation of food, which they had been made
to suffer in prospect of the exhibition, had roused all the energies of
their savage natures; insomuch, that a sulky and yearning rage seemed to
spread through every nerve and sinew of their gigantic frames, and to make
them paw their quadrangular prison with long and pliant strides. They
moved, however, as yet in total silence; so that Boto having fixed his
eyes upon them, took courage to approach the grate,—slowly, nevertheless,
and with a face that appeared to lengthen an inch for every inch he
advanced. But when he had almost touched the bars, one of the huge lions
came forward towards him, with something between a growl and a sigh, which
made Boto spring backward with great and surprising agility, and with such
force, that both he and Xerophrastes, who happened unfortunately to have
been standing a little way behind him, were overthrown at all their length
upon the floor.
The Centurion, and the limping old keeper, burst into laughter; but
Xerophrastes rising, and shaking his garment, said, with some warmth,
“Think not, O Sabinus, that any sudden start of fear has thus ridiculously
stretched me upon the floor; but attribute the mischance only to this rude
offspring of British earth, whose unreclaimed natural feelings are still
shamefully affected by natural causes.”—“Castor and Pollux,” quoth the
Centurion,—“you take every thing too seriously, my friend.”—“I take it not
seriously,” replied he, with admirable gravity. “My philosophy forbids me
to do so; it has steeled me against externals.”—“Has it so, in faith!”
rejoined the Centurion. “I think some of your equanimity is, in fact,
owing to the trifling circumstance, that you have in reality received no
injury whatever from your tumble. And as to steeling, let me tell you, I
think the iron in the grated door there is much better placed, than in the
bosom of a philosopher; for, in the door, it serves the purpose of
preventing all harm; but if these animals were once out, all the mental
steel of which you boast would not save every bone in your body from being
cracked in the twanging of a bow-string.”—“You speak,” replied
Xerophrastes, “as if you had embraced the tenets of a sect not worthy of
the lovers of wisdom—You speak as if the artificial contrivances of human
workmen were all in all. An iron cage may confine wild beasts; but can
cages be made for all those misfortunes to which mankind are liable, and
against which the force of the mind is their only means of defence? Can
you cage the Eumenides, when they come to avenge a life spent in ignoble
indolence and degrading luxury?”—“In truth,” replied the Centurion with a
smile, “I have never seen the Eumenides except once, and that was in the
theatre of Athens. But Boto, perhaps, has been more fortunate. Did you
ever see the Eumenides, good Boto?” “No, master,” replied, stupidly, the
perplexed Boto, “I never was at the theatre.”
“Ye gods!” exclaimed the Stoic, “of a surety this Britain must have been
the last spot rescued from the dominion of Chaos!”
But while we were yet contemplating those enormous animals, and amused
with the awkward gestures of Boto, the trumpets were blown in the
Amphitheatre, and no sooner did the sound of them penetrate into the
vaults, than it was evident, from the bustle which ensued, that the
Emperor had returned to his place. With all speed, therefore, did we
reascend to the upper air, leaving the gladiators in the act of mustering
in their respective quarters of the gloomy vault; and the feeders not less
busied in preparing their beasts for the expected combat. Had we not been
under the protection of Sabinus, we should have attempted in vain to
regain our places; but he being an acknowledged and current authority,
known in every department of the Amphitheatre, the door-keepers, and other
functionaries, durst refuse him nothing; room was made for us where no
room appeared; and, in a word, we shortly found ourselves once more seated
by the side of Rubellia and Sextus.
_CHAPTER XII._
The day was by this time considerably advanced; and, in spite of the
awnings spread all over head, the rays of the sun were so powerful, that
the marble benches felt hot to the touch, wherever they were exposed to
them; and altogether there was such a glare and fervour throughout the
place, that my eyes began to be weary of gazing; and very gladly would I
have retired, rather than remain to see out the rest of the exhibition.
Nevertheless, there was no appearance of any one having gone away in
weariness; but, on the contrary, the seats, and even the passages, seemed
to be more crowded than they had been in the anterior part of the morning.
The arena was vacant, when I looked down upon it; but in a short time, a
single old man, who, as Rubellia told me, had, without doubt, been found
guilty of some atrocious wickedness, was led forth from a small wicket on
the one side, and presently his fetters being struck off, those that
conducted him retired, leaving him alone upon the sand. The eyes of this
malefactor refused at first to look steadfastly on the objects around him,
and it seemed to me that he had probably been long confined in some dark
place, so grievously did the dazzling splendour, reflected from the floor
and walls, appear to bewilder and confound him. Nevertheless, after a
brief space, he seemed in some measure to recover himself, and assumed a
posture of resignation, leaning with one hand against the parapet, as if
he needed support to uphold himself. Pallid and extenuated were the
outlines of the old man’s visage, and his hair and beard exhibited not a
little of the squalidness attendant on long confinement; yet there was
something in the attitude, and even in the countenance, which made me
harbour the suspicion that he had not, at some former period, been
altogether unacquainted with the luxuries and refinements of social life.
The beauty, indeed, of the mould in which his form had originally been
cast, might, perhaps, have been the sole cause of these casual
demonstrations of elegance; yet it was impossible not to regard the man
with greater interest, by reason of the contrast suggested between what he
once perhaps had been, and what he now was.
A feeling of the same sort seemed to pervade many more in the assembly;
and I heard a continual whispering among those around me, as if there was
a general anxiety to learn something of the history of the man. No one,
however, appearing to be able to say any thing concerning this, I kept my
eyes fixed upon himself, awaiting the issue in silence. Judge then, what
was my surprise, when one of the heralds of Trajan, having commanded that
there should be silence in the amphitheatre, said, “Let Tisias of Antioch
come forth, and answer to the things that shall be alleged against him.”
To which the old man, that was alone in the arena, immediately made
reply,—“Here am I—my name is Tisias of Antioch.”—In vain, however, even
after hearing the well-remembered voice, did I attempt to persuade myself
that the face was such as I had pictured within myself; for, as to seeing
it, I have already told you that utter darkness prevailed in the dungeon
all the time I was there with him.
Then arose the Prefect of the city, who had his place immediately under
the chair of Cæsar, and said in a voice, which, although not loud, was
heard distinctly all through the Amphitheatre,—“Tisias of Antioch, being
accused of blasphemy and contempt for the Gods, has been brought hither,
either to refute this charge, by doing homage at the altar of Jupiter Best
and Greatest; or, persisting in his rebellion, to suffer openly the
punishment which the laws have affixed to such perversity. Let him remain
where he is until the Flamens invite all to join in the sacrifice.”
Tisias, hearing these words, stept forth into the middle of the arena, and
folding his arms upon his breast, stood there composedly, without once
lifting up his eyes, either to the place from which the Prefect had
spoken, or to any other region of the Amphitheatre. The situation in which
he stood was such, that I commanded, where I sate, a full and distinct
view of every movement of the old man’s countenance, and assuredly my eyes
were in no danger of being directed away from him. For a few moments there
was perfect silence throughout the assembly, until at length the same
herald made proclamation for the doors to be thrown open, that the priests
of Jupiter might have access. There was heard forthwith a noise, as of the
turning of some heavy machinery, and a part of the ground-work of the
arena itself appeared to be giving way, right over against that quarter in
which Tisias had his station. But of this the purpose was soon manifested,
when there arose from underneath into the space thus vacated, a wooden
stage, or platform, covered all over with rich carpetings, whereof the
centre was occupied by a marble altar, set forth already with all the
usual appurtenances of sacrifice, and surmounted on one side by a gigantic
statue of bronze, in which it was easy to recognize the features of the
great Phidian Jupiter. Neither had the altar any sooner made its
appearance there, and the sound of the machinery, by which its great
weight had been lifted, ceased to be heard, than even as the herald had
given command, the main gates of the Amphitheatre were expanded, and
thereby a free passage prepared for the procession of the Flamens. With
that, all those that were present in the Amphitheatre, arose from their
seats and stood up, and a sweet symphony of lutes and clarions ushered in
the sacred band to the place appointed for them. And, first of all, there
marched a train of fifty beautiful boys, and then an equal number of very
young maidens, all, both boys and maidens, arrayed in white tunics, and
having their heads crowned with oaken garlands, and bearing in their hands
fresh branches of the oak tree, which, above all the other trees of the
forest, is, as you have heard and well know, held dear and sacred to
Jupiter. Then these youthful bands were separated, and they arranged
themselves, the boys on the right, and the girls on the left hand of the
altar, some of them standing on the arena itself, and others on either
side, upon the steps of the platform whereon the altar was fixed; and
beautiful, indeed, was their array, and comely and guiltless were their
looks; and much modesty was apparent, both in the downcast eyes and closed
lips, with which some of them stood there to await the issue of their
coming, and in the juvenile admiration wherewith others of them were
regarding the wide and splendid assemblage around them; insomuch, that I
could not but feel within myself a certain dread and fearfulness, when I
saw the feet of so many tender and innocent ones placed there upon the
same hot and guilty sand, which had so often drunk the blood of fierce
beasts and cruel malefactors—alas!—which had drunk the blood of the
innocent also—and which was yet to drink thereof abundantly.
And after them there came in the priests themselves of Jupiter, arrayed in
the white garments of sacrifice, walking two by two, the oldest and
principal of them coming last. And behind them again, were certain younger
assistants, clothed also in white, who led by a cord of silk inwrought
with threads of silver, a milk-white steer, without spot or blemish, whose
horns were already gilt, and his broad brows crowned with oak leaves and
roses. And last of all entered the Vestal Virgins, none of whom had ever
before been seen by me, and they also walked two by two; and no one could
contemplate without veneration the majesty of their demeanour. With broad
fillets were they bound around the forehead, and deep flowing veils hung
down to their feet, entirely covering their faces and their hands;
nevertheless, their dignity was apparent; and it was not the less
impressive, by reason of the great mystery in which all things about them
appeared to be enveloped.
Imagine, therefore, to yourselves, how magnificent was the appearance of
all things, when youths and damsels, and priests and vestals, had taken
their places, according to the custom of their sacred observances; and all
that innumerable company of spectators yet standing up in the
amphitheatre, the choral-hymn was begun, in which every voice there was
united, except only that of Tisias the Christian. Now, it was the soft low
voices of the young maidens that sounded, and then these would pause, and
give place to the clearer and more piercing notes of the boys that stood
on the other side of the altar; then again the priestesses of Vesta would
break in from afar with their equable harmony; and anon these in their
turn ceasing, the Flamens of Jupiter would lift up their strong deep
chanting, until, at the appointed signal from him that stood on the
highest step of the altar, with the cup of libation in his hand, the whole
people that were present burst in and joined in the rushing stream of the
burden, “Jupiter,—Jupiter, hear us!—hear us, Father of Gods and men!”
while the wine was poured out, gushing red upon the marble, and the
incense flung on high from fifty censers, rolled its waves of smoke all
over the surface of the arena, and quite up to the gorgeous canopy of that
resounding Amphitheatre. Magnificent, indeed, was the spectacle, and
majestic the music; yet in the midst of it, how could I take away my eyes
from the pale and solitary old man, by reason of whose presence alone all
these things were so? With calm eyes did he regard all the pageantry of
those imperial rites,—with closed lips did he stand amidst all the
shouting multitudes. He bowed not his head; he lifted not up his hand;
neither would he bend his knee, when the victim was slain before the horns
of the altar; neither would he in any thing give semblance of being a
partaker in the worship.
At length the song ceased, and there was a proclamation again for deep
silence; and the Prefect of the city, addressing himself once more to
Tisias, spoke thus:—“Impious and unhappy man, with great clemency have all
things been conducted as concerning thee. When, after long imprisonment,
and innumerable exhortations in private and in public, thou hadst always
rejected every means of safety, and spurned from thee the pardon of those
in whose hands thy being is placed, yet, notwithstanding of all thine
obstinacy and continual rebellion, was it determined, that, in the face of
all the people, thou shouldst once more have free grace offered to thee,
provided only thou shouldst, when all the assembly worshipped, join thy
voice with them, and bow thy head also toward the altar of Jupiter.
Nevertheless all that now hear me shall bear witness, that, with open and
visible contumacy, thou hast rejected this opportunity also of being
reconciled unto the prince and the empire,—that, when every knee bent, and
every voice was lifted up, thou alone hast stood upright, and thy lips
alone have been closed. If it be so, that, from some inflicted, rather
than voluntary perversion of mind, thou hast never yet been able to
understand the danger in which thou art placed, know now, that there
remains no hope at all for thee, except for a moment; and let the strong
fear of death open thine eyes, that thou mayst see where thou art, and for
what purpose thou hast been brought hither. Thou art a born subject of
Rome, and thy life can only be held by thee, in virtue of obedience to the
laws. These are clearer upon nothing, than the necessity that all men
should acknowledge the deities of Rome; and of good reason, since, if they
be despised, and their authority set at nought, by what means shall an
oath be ratified, or a pledge given; or how may the head, which counsels
and protects, be assured that the members shall not be lifted up against
it? Let silence remain in the assembly, and let Tisias of Antioch make his
election, whether he will give obedience, or suffer the penalty of
transgression.”
Then the Prefect, and all those round about Trajan, sat down, and there
was a deep silence throughout the lower region, where, for the most part,
they of condition were placed; but when the rabble, that sat above, beheld
the stern and resolute countenance with which the old man stood there upon
the arena, it seemed as if they were enraged beyond measure, and there
arose among them a fierce uproar, and a shouting of hatred; and, amidst
groans and hisses, there was a cry from innumerable voices of—“Christian!
Christian!—Blasphemer! Blasphemer!—Atheist! Atheist!—A tiger! A tiger!—Let
loose a tiger upon the Christian!”
Nevertheless, the old man preserved unmoved the steadfastness of his
demeanour, and lifting up his eyes to the place from whence the tumult
proceeded, regarded the ferocious multitude with a visage, not of anger or
of scornfulness, but rather of pity and calmness; insomuch, that I
perceived the nobles and senators were somewhat ashamed of the outcry, and
the Prefect of the city arose from his place, and beckoned with his hand,
until the people were weary of shouting, and order was, in some measure,
re-established in the Amphitheatre.