An oddly fitting Simpsons line for Christians becoming martyrs in the arena. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnLLOhhi8aU |
So, what are they watching? If you remember correctly, I said two blogs ago that many of the fights that occurred in the gladiator arena were far, far more shocking than the traditional depiction you would expect in books and movies. It was the sheer volume of death that was so incredible, and the way the Romans would search far and wide just to provide variety for the bloodbath made it all the more gruesomely spectacular.
By 300 B.C., animals became the newest attraction. Killing a man? Yeah, that's cool and all, and I'm sure it's really exciting, but killing a bear? Now that'll get people talking. Due to the Roman Empire's colossal reach and scope, animals were brought in from all over. Soon, elephants would be fighting while a hundred lions - yes, a hundred - were slaughtered the next day. Next would be rhinos, 150 leopards, and five crocodiles. They would bring in apes, as well. All of this was just one emperor's arena event. Nero, for example, had 400 bears and 300 lions killed in a day. Those are numbers that are so incredible I can hardly picture it. These are animals I think of in small numbers, sparsely populated across large areas of vast forests or open savanna, not all packed into an arena to fight it out with people or each other. In the Colosseum one year, 9000 animals were killed in games that stretched well over weeks. Naturally, this was unsustainable as when you completely wipe clean an ecosystem it tends not to repopulate all that quickly. The excessive hunting displaced the animals, moving them south and out of reach of the empire's deadly grasp towards the end of the gladiator games' run.
The process in bringing these animals was, of course, exceedingly dangerous, expensive, and difficult. First, they would trap the animals in all corners of the empire. That was the easy part. The trick was managing to get a colossal, violent, angry animal onto a boat without having the ease of being able to slaughter it first. Imagine packing an elephant onto a boat created at the time of the Roman Empire; surely no easy task. The requirements of space, food and manpower would severely tax those that had to bring them over, and all of this was before the arena even occurred. From there, they would have to keep them in temporary holding cells before they would release them through a rather ingenious method of lowering them from a platform into a thin hallway in which they have only one direction to go - straight into the arena. None of the animals would survive. The poor may or may not have feasted on the meat of the animals, but that's still up for debate (I'd admit that if I had the chance, yeah, I'd eat a lion. Just to say I have the heart of a lion in me).
The animals were typically reserved for a morning timeslot, a prelude to the main event. Along with the animal fights and hunts, there were comedic bits, competitive athletics, and other such entertainers. Once that finished up, they'd have the public executions until they were ready to bring on the gladiators themselves (Kiss Cam technology for halftime filler was yet to be invented).
Coming out to a flourish of music (an acoustic version of Welcome to the Jungle, I presume), the gladiators would then take the stage. Since there were massive numbers of small amphitheaters all over the empire, many of the fights were simply what one would expect; a small group of gladiators that would fight one-on-one to the enjoyment of a crowd. However, in the larger arenas (the Colosseum and otherwise) there would occasionally be staged battles symbolizing great wars the Romans had succeeded in. Some would have literally thousands of men fighting to the death. Now, this was no Civil War reenactment (which may or may not only exist on television), but it was instead very real. The largest such example was in 52 A.D. under emperor Claudius, in which 19,000 people fought in a massive ship battle, fighting until they would decide to stop it after enough had died. How many that would be is unclear, but I imagine it wouldn't be just a scant few. The Romans liked their bloodshed.
Once the games had concluded, they would call in the next wave; the janitorial staff. Human and animal carcasses were everywhere, and the task of clearing them all out was anything but minor. The lunchtime executions were simply thrown into the nearest river, an unceremonious end and meant to disgrace the dead. The gladiators would at least be buried, but typically in a mass grave. The more successful, moderately wealthy ones could occasionally afford a gravestone.
Years later, humanity would avenge this man's death by always eating Animal Crackers' heads first. |
The last casualty was the games themselves. Once the empire split into east and west, the games died out in in the two segments for different reasons. The west got poor; bringing in animals (which eventually switched to the cheaper option of herbivores, as they were easy to collect but much less fun to watch being killed), feeding and housing gladiators, and the upkeep of the arena in general was an expensive endeavour and eventually they just couldn't afford it. The east was completely different; emperor Constantine was one of the first to favour Christians, and under their influence, he began to weaken the games. Eventually they replaced the pagans, and mauling countless animals and humans in a bloodied mass of violence and destruction just didn't say "Christian values", marking the end of the age of gladiators.
It was, however, the birth of the Christian party-pooper.
No comments:
Post a Comment