As we saw in the previous chapter, arena spectacles had become a potent means of propaganda by the end of the Roman Republic. Certainly, the lavish events staged by Caesar played no small role in solidifying his own popularity among the populace of Rome. Not surprisingly, many subsequent emperors, beginning with Augustus, realizing how such events could increase their own political standing, spared no expense in their production. In this chapter, we shall discuss the imperial spectacles produced in Rome during the first two centuries of the Empire, as well as the efforts made during this period to bring such events under stricter imperial control. We shall also address the growing popularity of arena spectacles throughout the Roman provinces during this period, as seen in the surviving record of numerous munera outside of the imperial capital.
One of the difficulties encountered in studying the elaborate spectacles of this period is the almost unbelievable numbers of participants and/or fatalities sometimes alleged for such events. Could the Romans, for example, really have killed 9000 animals in venationes staged to celebrate the opening of the Colosseum in 79 AD? The historian Dio, writing in the third century AD, certainly viewed such figures with scepticism.
‘… anyone who cared to record their number would find his task a burden without being able, in all probability, to present the truth; for all such matters are regularly exaggerated in a spirit of boastfulness.’1
Although he specifically refers here to the actual number of gladiators and animals involved in the spectacles of Caesar in 46 BC, Dio’s words are nonetheless applicable to the figures given for later spectacles as well. The preserved figures for the massive imperial spectacles of Rome, in particular, should be approached with some caution: it has been suggested, for example, that the number of slain animals alleged for such events as the inaugural games of the Colosseum may represent the total number of beasts gathered for such an occasion, rather than the number actually killed. If, indeed, we consider such figures as rough estimates of the number of participants involved in a given spectacle, rather than an exact tally of fatalities or the like, we can still gain an impression of the changing scale of imperial munera over time.2
The first Roman emperor, Augustus,3 played a pivotal role in the production and further organization of arena spectacles in Rome. It would indeed be more surprising if such an astute political leader had not exploited such popular events to the full. In his Res Gestae, or record of his accomplishments as Roman emperor, Augustus commemorates for posterity the lavish munera staged during his reign:
Three times in my own name I gave a show of gladiators, and five times in the name of my sons or grandsons; in these shows there fought about ten thousand men … in my own name, or that of my sons or grandsons, on twenty-six occasions I gave to the people, in the circus, in the forum, or in the amphitheatre, hunts of African wild beasts in which about three thousand five hundred beasts were slain.4
One of the most important aspects of this passage is the allusion to the monopoly on arena spectacles in Rome exercised by Augustus and subsequent emperors. Having fought his way to the apex of the Roman state, Augustus was subsequently at pains to ensure that no new candidates could emerge to challenge his rule in Rome. Therefore, the emperor limited those who were eligible to stage munera in Rome, and reserved the largest spectacles, as well as the resultant public acclaim, for himself or other members of the imperial family. In the 20s BC, Augustus limited the praetors to staging only two munera per year, with no more than 120 gladiators in each event, and his successor, Tiberius, subsequently put further restrictions on the production of spectacles in Rome by editores outside of the imperial family. The next important stage in this process was reached in the late first century under the emperor Domitian, when only the emperor himself or one of his chosen officials was legally allowed to stage munera in Rome.5
It was also under Augustus that important steps were made in the regularization of arena spectacles. As we saw in the previous chapter, the earliest munera in Rome were generally staged as part of certain traditional Roman ludi, or on special occasions, such as the triumphal celebrations of Roman generals. Beginning in the late Republic, however, such events began to be included in even more festivals: in 42 BC, for example, gladiatorial and animal spectacles replaced chariot races at the Ludi Cereales. Under Augustus, this proliferation of munera continued, as they began to be staged as part of additional state celebrations, such as the Saturnalia. By the end of the Julio-Claudian period, Augustus’ successors had followed this trend by decreeing that ten days at the end of each December were to be specifically set aside for gladiatorial and animal spectacles.6
The organization of a given day’s entertainment also appears to have been largely standardized by the end of Augustus’ reign. As previously discussed, Caesar created a precedent by staging venationes in close association with gladiatorial events in the course of his spectacles in Rome. It was under Augustus, however, that the staging of animal and gladiatorial events on the same day first became commonplace. Such an arrangement, whereby animal events were staged in the morning of a given day’s entertainment, followed by gladiatorial combat in the afternoon, subsequently became standard practice for arena spectacles throughout the Empire.7
Although Augustus’ own Res Gestae does not provide a great deal of information on specific munera staged during his reign, other ancient testimony does provide such details. Since Augustus, as the first Roman emperor, served as a role model for his successors in the area of public entertainment, as well as so many other facets of rule, a more detailed discussion of the arena spectacles staged during his reign is certainly warranted. The following discussion of such events, while by no means exhaustive, nonetheless illustrates the continued growth in the size and scale of arena spectacles during his reign.
The earliest significant spectator event staged by Augustus took place in the late 30s BC, shortly before he was able to secure sole rule over the Roman Empire. In this instance, the event in question was not a venatio or a gladiatorial combat, but a criminal execution. Nonetheless, it certainly bears closer examination: public executions became a popular component of arena spectacles under the Empire, and the event in question certainly provided a precedent for the ever more elaborate execution spectacles staged by Augustus’ successors. The focal point of this particular event was a Sicilian bandit named Selurus, who had terrorized the region around Mount Etna for years prior to his arrest. The severity of his crimes evidently dictated that he be executed in a particularly elaborate and humiliating fashion. Rather than simply being crucified or thrown to wild animals in the arena (standard punishments for capital offences under Roman law), Selurus was executed in a much more dramatic and inventive fashion. First, the bandit was placed atop a wooden apparatus representing Mount Etna; at some point, the apparatus collapsed, plunging Selurus into the wild animal cages positioned beneath, and thereby sealing his fate. Augustus had only regained control of Sicily from his rival Sextus Pompey a few years prior to this spectacle, and it was certainly a boon to his propaganda to be able to present himself as a guarantor of law and order on the island through such an event.8
Other elaborate events staged by Augustus at a relatively early stage in his political career include those held in 29 BC to celebrate the dedication of the recently completed Temple of the Divine Caesar; the gladiatorial munus and venatio staged as part of these celebrations were the first given in the emperor’s own name. On this particular occasion, the gladiatorial munus featured not only gladiators matched against each other in single combat, but also a mass combat between Dacian and Suevi prisoners-of-war, captured as a result of recent Roman campaigns along the Rhine and Danube frontiers. The final notable feature of this gladiatorial spectacle was that a Roman senator, Quintus Vitellius, participated in the event. Evidently, the presumed earlier ban against members of the senatorial elite participating in such events had either fallen by the wayside, or Augustus, who certainly had the power to do so, had chosen to ignore it on this occasion.9
Augustus was one Roman emperor, in particular, who appears to have encouraged Romans of good family to participate in various public spectacles. The ludus Troia, a martial equestrian display performed by young men of the Roman aristocracy, was performed on a number of occasions during Augustus’ reign, including as part of the festivities surrounding the dedication of Caesar’s temple in 29 BC. The emperor evidently believed that such martial contests ideally would improve the fighting spirit and morale of the young aristocrats involved, and thereby inculcate them with the requisite virtus for high administrative or military posts under his administration. During Augustus’ reign, noble Roman youths who belonged to the aristocratic association of iuvenes [‘young men’] in Rome, fought in such events as part of the ludi iuvenum (or Iuvenalia), games which appear to have been first instituted as a formal event by Augustus. It is important to note that the young men who volunteered to participate in these spectacles, with the evident encouragement of the Emperor, do not appear to have incurred the level of infamia, or disdain, normally associated with professional gladiators and beast fighters in Roman society.10
It is apparent, nonetheless, that not all members of the Roman government were as taken with the idea of youthful members of the aristocracy fighting or otherwise performing in public as their emperor. In 22 BC, another senatorial decree was instituted which not only reestablished the earlier strictures against senators performing in public, but also forbade members of the equestrian class from participating in theatrical performances or gladiatoria opera, a term which presumably incorporated venationes as well. Another interesting aspect of this ban was the inclusion of women for the first time. One possible motivation for the decree of 22 BC, in fact, may have been the games staged by Augustus’ heir Marcellus the previous year, in which not only an equestrian, but a woman of noble rank are said to have participated (albeit on the stage, not in the arena). Evidently, many in Rome’s governing classes considered such a performance to be distasteful. As we shall see, however, the decree of 22 BC certainly did not end aristocratic or female participation in arena events.11
Another notable gladiatorial munus of 29 BC was that staged by Statilius Taurus, one of Augustus’ foremost generals at the time. The esteem enjoyed by Taurus in the eyes of the Emperor is clearly indicated by the fact that he was not only allowed to stage this munus, but also to build a new stone amphitheatre for the event, the first in Rome, from his own resources. Augustus, indeed, encouraged his most trusted subordinates to build new monumental structures in Rome as part of the emperor’s grand design to beautify the capital. Subsequently, of course, many other munera were staged in the same facility, such as a number of the venationes referred to by Augustus in the Res Gestae. Unfortunately, no trace of Taurus’ amphitheatre remains today, as it was one of many buildings destroyed in the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD.12
Another example of the munera which Augustus periodically allowed to be staged by his subordinates were the gladiatorial combats and venationes staged by Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, a member of the extended imperial family. It is not exactly clear when the events in question took place, although they were most likely staged during Domitius’ praetorship in 19 BC and/or his consulship three years later. To judge from Suetonius’ description of the venationes, they were quite large in scope: Domitius is said to have not only staged a beast hunt in the Circus Maximus, but in other areas of Rome as well. Unfortunately, we have no information on what other venues might have been custom-built for these other venationes. Suetonius does not give us any information as to the size of Domitius’ gladiatorial munus, but he claims that it was so savage that Augustus ultimately was forced to curtail it by an edict. Clearly, Augustus’ generosity in allowing his underlings to stage spectacles in Rome only extended so far, particularly when they threatened to damage the reputation of the emperor himself.13
More specific information survives concerning the spectacles that Augustus staged to celebrate the dedication of the Theatre of Marcellus, his recently deceased nephew, in 11 BC. One sign of the importance that the emperor attached to these events is the size of the venatio which took place on this occasion: 600 Africanae (most likely lions or other felines) are said to have been slain, the highest recorded number of animal fatalities for any beast hunt staged during Augustus’ reign.14
It was not these animals, however, which appear to have elicited the most interest among contemporary spectators or later historians. Subsequent accounts of the events associated with the dedication of the Theatre of Marcellus make specific mention of the tiger in a cage formally exhibited to the Roman populace on this occasion. Like his predecessors Pompey and Julius Caesar, Augustus realized the potential propaganda value of exotic animals, and the tiger exhibited in 11 BC was not chosen simply for its relative novelty. The reign of Augustus saw increasing Roman trade with, and interest in the Indian subcontinent, and the tiger, native to this region, was an ideal advertisement for this Roman policy. Although we cannot know for certain, this particular animal was probably one of the tigers presented to Augustus as a gift some years earlier by visiting Indian emissaries on the island of Samos.15
The tiger exhibited by Augustus in 11 BC was certainly not the only such exotic animal that the Emperor employed for propaganda purposes during his reign. In his biography of Augustus, Suetonius notes that, in addition to tigers, the emperor exhibited other exotic animals, such as a rhinoceros and a snake allegedly fifty cubits (approximately eighty-five feet) in length, to the Roman populace on special occasions. Just as the tiger advertised current Roman interest in India, the rhinoceros, and perhaps the snake (if it was an African python), symbolized the contemporary desire to expand Roman trade and influence on the African continent beyond the territory that Rome already held along its northern coast.16
One final exotic animal should be mentioned in the context of Augustus’ territorial propaganda – the crocodile. On a number of occasions during his reign, the Emperor either exhibited such animals to the Roman populace, or staged venationes in which they were slaughtered. Rather than merely alluding to Africa as a whole, crocodiles, in particular, symbolized the province of Egypt, which Augustus had brought under Roman control after his victory over Marc Antony and Cleopatra. The clearest evidence for this connection is a coin minted by Augustus shortly after the annexation of this territory: its obverse depicts a crocodile with the legend Aegypto Capta [Captured Egypt]’. As we shall see in our subsequent discussion, Augustus’ successors continued to employ crocodiles as well as other exotic animals for propaganda purposes.
Among the most impressive spectacles staged by Augustus were those associated with the Temple of Mars Ultor in 2 BC. The numerous events staged to celebrate this occasion included two venationes and a gladiatorial munus. The latter event was staged in the Saepta Julia, the large voting precinct built by Augustus’ right-hand man Agrippa in 26 BC. Subsequently, the Saepta was one of the venues in Rome used for various munera by the Julio-Claudian emperors, particularly as its original purpose became less and less important in the increasingly autocratic Roman state. The two venationes staged in 2 BC were put on respectively in the Circus Maximus and the Circus Flaminius, the latter being one of the smaller chariot-racing venues in Rome. The first event saw the slaughter of 260 lions, while the second saw the death of twenty-six crocodiles.17
The most impressive event associated with the dedication of the Temple of Mars Ultor, however, was likely a massive naumachia which, according to the Res Gestae, featured over thirty vessels and approximately 3000 combatants. The artificial lake, or stagnum, built for this event was larger in area than the Circus Maximus, a clear indication of the resources that the emperor had at his disposal for such spectacles. The battle of Salamis between the Greek and Persian fleets in 480 BC was the inspiration for this particular naumachia. It is certainly possible that Salamis was chosen as the inspiration for this particular event because of the superficial similarities between this particular battle and Augustus’ victory over the combined fleets of Antony and Cleopatra at Actium in 31 BC. A parallel could certainly be drawn between the victory over the alleged eastern despot Cleopatra at Actium and that won centuries earlier by the Greeks at Salamis against another eastern potentate, Xerxes. This suggested connection between the two battles may also be strengthened by the possibility that the stagnum which Augustus had built in preparation for his naumachia was located on property in Rome which had once belonged to Antony. By the time this particular event was staged in 2 BC, almost thirty years after Actium, the emperor calling attention to a victory won, in part, over a fellow Roman leader would not have caused the potential awkwardness it might have a few decades earlier.18
Another notable spectacle should be mentioned in our survey of Augustus’ reign, that staged by his grandson Germanicus in 6 AD. According to the later writer Pliny the Elder, the most memorable aspect of this event was the elephants who, much to the spectators’ delight, performed such tricks as simulating gladiatorial combat, dancing in unison, and even (so Pliny claims) walking on tightropes. Although, as we have seen, venationes became the most popular animal event in Rome by the late Republic, spectacles like that of Germanicus illustrate that nonviolent displays of animals did not die out entirely, even under the Empire. Although elephants were not the only attested animals to participate in such events, they appear to have been particularly popular with spectators, no doubt in part because of the special affinity Romans felt towards these animals.
In the later years of Augustus’ reign, the continuing problem of upperclass participation in public spectacles once again arose. The decree of 22 BC, which had effectively banned male and female members of the Roman elite from such activities, had begun to be ignored soon after its promulgation: the previously mentioned spectacles staged by Domitius, in fact, had included equestrians and women of high status performing on the stage as mimes. In 11 AD, in an attempt to address the flaws in its previous legislation, the Senate issued a new decree on this issue. Henceforth, members of the equestrian class were allowed to participate in gladiatorial spectacles (and presumably the venationes as well). Freeborn men and women under the ages of twentyfive and twenty respectively, however, were banned from participation in public spectacles. The fact that such a clause had been added to the decree suggests that young men and women attempting to participate in such events had indeed been a problem.19
Augustan spectacles like those highlighted in our previous discussion provided a clear model for subsequent rulers of the Julio-Claudian dynasty, which lasted until the suicide of Nero in 68 AD. The relatives and heirs of Augustus who ruled the Roman Empire during this period, seeing the popularity that Augustus had enjoyed through his sponsorship of such events, took pains to emulate the standards he had set for them. The Roman populace expected nothing less at this point. It was not enough, however, simply to equal the achievements of Augustus in this regard. Just as Republican magistrates had striven to surpass the previous spectacles of their political rivals to secure even greater public support, so too did the majority of Augustus’ successors attempt to surpass the precedent he had set, and thereby win for themselves greater acclaim from the populace in Rome.
One way in which subsequent Roman emperors attempted to improve the spectacles staged under their auspices, in particular the venationes, was through the collection of ever-greater numbers and varieties of animals for particular events. As we saw in our previous discussion of Republican spectacles, attempting to add variety through such means was, in and of itself, nothing new in Rome. The collection of ever-greater numbers and varieties of animals, however, took on an added significance under the absolutist rule of the Roman Empire.
The animals presented by an emperor to the Roman populace, in addition to symbolizing recent conquests or territorial interests, could also, in a much broader sense, symbolize the emperor’s control over nature. The collection and slaughter of animals to demonstrate such mastery was certainly not a practice unique to Roman emperors, but was a feature of numerous autocratic states throughout history. In most other states, however, the rulers themselves hunted and killed animals to demonstrate their mastery before a relatively small group of the aristocratic elite. The kings of ancient Assyria, to name one such example, would kill lions and other beasts in carefully controlled hunts staged before a select group of spectators. In Rome, however, aside from a few exceptions we shall have occasion to discuss, the emperors did not kill the animals themselves, but had the slaughter carried out by arena performers under their auspices, before thousands of spectators drawn from all ranks of Roman society. The difference between the hunting spectacles of Rome and those of other states no doubt arose, in large part, from the profound influence that the gladiatorial combats of the arena had upon the development of the venationes. Despite this difference, however, the message presented by hunting spectacles in Rome and other cultures was quite similar: nature itself was subject to a given ruler’s power.20
In a pre-industrial society like that of Rome, which depended so much upon agricultural production for its prosperity, the slaughter in the arena of wild animals, which might otherwise prove a danger to crops or farmers, could even be presented as a public service for the emperor’s subjects. Once again, this particular justification for hunting spectacles was not limited to Rome, but could be found in numerous other societies as well. One longstanding justification for aristocratic fox hunting in England, for example, was that it eradicated vermin which might otherwise prey upon rural livestock. In a Roman context, one of the most succinct expressions of such a justification for animal slaughter is found in a poem, probably dating to the reign of Nero, from the Anthologia Graeca:
‘Ye furthest Nasamonian wilds of Libya, no longer, your expanse vexed by the hordes of wild beasts of the continent, shall ye ring in echo, even beyond the sands of the Nomads, to the voice of lions roaring in the desert, since Caesar the son has trapped the countless tribe and brought it face to face with his fighters. Now the heights once full of the lairs of prowling beasts are pasturage for the cattle of men.’21
In a region like North Africa, which was not only one of the most important centres of agricultural production in the Roman Empire, but also an area where venationes were particularly popular, the perceived connection between arena spectacles and agricultural prosperity was particularly compelling.
One emperor, however, who did not exploit the propaganda potential of arena spectacles to enhance his personal popularity, and who therefore presents something of an exception to the overall growth of such events following the death of Augustus, was his immediate successor Tiberius. Although he was in most respects a competent administrator, and indeed left the Empire with a budget surplus of over two billion sesterces upon his death in 37 AD, Tiberius, who presented a somewhat dour contrast to his predecessor, was not interested in slavishly courting the affection of the masses as Augustus had done. One of the reasons why the finances of the Empire were in such a strong condition at the time of Tiberius’ death was that he had saved so much money over the twenty-three years of his reign by staging or funding arena spectacles on only an irregular basis at best. The biographer Suetonius, in fact, claimed that the emperor gave no public shows at all during his long reign, although if one considers the events funded by Tiberius but formally staged in the name of one of his relatives or subordinates, this statement is not technically correct.22
One of the few specific spectacles recorded for Tiberius’ reign, a gladiatorial combat staged by his son Drusus in 15 AD, provides a good illustration of the different attitudes towards the arena on the part of Tiberius and his predecessor Augustus. First, the seemingly excessive pleasure that Drusus took in bloodshed is said to have not only alarmed the spectators present at the event, but also earned a rebuke from his father. The complete absence of Tiberius from the event was also noted by the Roman populace: according to the later historian Tacitus, who wrote a highly critical account of Tiberius’ reign, this was either because of the Emperor’s dislike of large crowds, or his fear of being unfavourably compared with the more gregarious Augustus were he to attend such an event. Another historian, Dio, adds the further detail that two members of the equestrian class volunteered to fight each other as part of Drusus’ spectacle. When the death of one of these combatants was reported to Tiberius, he forbid the survivor from ever fighting as a gladiator again. Only a few years later, in 19 AD, the Senate, no doubt at the instigation of the emperor, once more adopted a hardline stance towards elite participation in public spectacles by instituting a new decree which included a ban on any men or women of senatorial or equestrian rank appearing on the stage or in the arena. It should be noted, however, that this decree, like its predecessors, subsequently came to be disregarded, at least on occasion: both Caligula and Nero forced members of the elite, both male and female, to participate in spectacles staged during their respective reigns.23
Tiberius’ parsimony when it came to public spectacles played a role in one of the most famous disasters of his reign, the collapse of a wooden amphitheatre in the town of Fidenae, just north of Rome, in 27 AD. The fullest account of this disaster comes from Tacitus, who relates that an unscrupulous entrepreneur by the name of Atilius, evidently prompted by the longing of the masses for arena events, had a large wooden amphitheatre built in Fidenae to host a gladiatorial spectacle. Unfortunately, the construction of this particular edifice was so shoddy that when thousands of entertainmentstarved Romans poured into the amphitheatre for the promised event, it promptly collapsed. According to Tacitus, 50,000 spectators were either killed or wounded because of this disaster. The casualty figures given by Tacitus may well be an exaggeration. Nonetheless, because of this debacle, Atilius himself was banished, and the emperor decreed, first, that better standards were to be observed in the building of amphitheatres in future and, secondly, that no one with a fortune less than 400,000 sesterces could produce a gladiatorial spectacle – presumably, this was to avoid the kind of construction shortcuts Atillius had employed to save money.24
At the time of Tiberius’ death a decade later, there was a great deal of public rejoicing on the streets of Rome. The people wanted a new ruler, one who would provide them with the public entertainments to which they felt entitled. Possibly no other emperor in Roman history ascended to the throne amid more public jubilation or optimism than Tiberius’ successor Gaius, better known to posterity by his nickname of Caligula. One of the reasons for this support was the sympathy felt towards Caligula because of his family’s travails during Tiberius’ reign. His father, the popular Germanicus, had died under suspicious circumstances early in Tiberius’ reign, and a majority of his family had subsequently been imprisoned and died because of the Emperor’s suspicions. Somewhat paradoxically, however, the elderly Tiberius had adopted the young Caligula and taken him as his protégé late in his reign, thereby paving the latter’s path to the throne. Unlike his predecessor, Caligula demanded public adulation, and he spared no expense in providing lavish entertainments for the Roman populace.
Such was Caligula’s devotion to various entertainments that, according to the later historian Dio, ‘… [he] … was ruled by the charioteers and gladiators, and was the slave of the actors and others connected with the stage.’25
Caligula is even said to have indulged his passions by appearing as different types of performers, including as a gladiator, a foreshadowing of the later emperor Commodus. Incredible as it may seem, such were the vast sums Caligula spent on various spectacles and entertainers, as well as the lavish gifts of money to his subjects at the start of his reign, that he used up the sizable budget surplus left to him by Tiberius before the third year of his reign. He was thereafter forced to employ unscrupulous means to procure the requisite funds for further entertainments.26
Among his main expenditures on public spectacles were new entertainment facilities that were constructed, or at least had their construction begun, during Caligula’s reign. Although the Emperor used a number of existing venues for the munera, such as the Saepta Julia and the amphitheatre of Taurus, he also wished to construct new, purpose-built facilities which he thought better suited to the lavish spectacles staged within them. Perhaps the best-known example of the latter is the so-called Circus of Gaius and Nero built on the Vatican Hill; as the name suggests, not only Caligula, but also Nero, indulged his passion for chariot-racing at this venue. According to Dio, Caligula, however, also demolished a number of buildings and erected temporary wooden stands for one of his spectacles, all because of his alleged dislike for the amphitheatre of Taurus. Suetonius also relates that the emperor began the construction of a new amphitheatre by the Saepta Julia that was subsequently abandoned by his successor Claudius. The exact relationship, if any, between these two projects is unclear, although one suggestion is that the razing of buildings mentioned by Dio provided the necessary land for the later amphitheatre mentioned by Suetonius.27
One means by which Caligula, faced with such expenditures, attempted to raise revenues involved the auctioning of gladiators to prospective editores. Some of those who bid on the gladiators, according to Dio, did so of their own free will in order to win favour, not only through filling the coffers of the imperial treasury, but also through using these performers to stage future spectacles which the Emperor himself might attend. Some of those who bid and put on spectacles, however, were forced to do so by Caligula. The Emperor reintroduced the custom, for example, whereby two praetors were expected to stage a munus for the populace each year as part of their official duties, and so forced the latter to participate in these gladiatorial auctions. This particular custom was not observed during the reign of Tiberius, perhaps because of the emperor’s ambivalence towards public spectacles. For Caligula, however, the restoration of this practice, besides building his reputation as a restorer of Roman tradition, also offered a far more tangible benefit: forcing praetors to once again produce spectacles for the Roman populace, and do so at least in part from their own resources, provided some relief for the imperial treasury.28
Only a few months into his reign, Caligula provided a number of elaborate spectacles to the Roman populace for the dedication of the Temple of the Deified Augustus. The events in question included a ludus Troia performed by young members of the nobility, as well as two days of chariot racing and a venatio. The latter spectacle is said to have included the death of 400 bears, as well as the same number of Africanae, a much larger number than any attested slaughter of animals during Tiberius’ reign. The number of chariot races held on each day (twenty and twenty-four respectively) not only surpassed anything seen during Tiberius’ reign, but anything witnessed previously in the history of Roman chariot racing. It has been suggested that the animal combats took place between the races to provide some diversion for the audience. Such a practice was not unheard of on other occasions when chariot races and venationes were staged in close association with one another.29
Later in the year there occurred one of the more famous spectacle-related incidents of Caligula’s reign, and one of the first manifestations of the madness that allegedly afflicted the emperor after his recovery from a serious illness. According to Dio, an equestrian by the name of Atanius Secundus, wishing to gain the Emperor’s subsequent favour, had pledged during Caligula’s illness to fight as a gladiator should he recover. Unfortunately, when the emperor did indeed recover, far from rewarding Secundus for his devotion, he forced him to fulfill his vow and fight in the arena. Dio suggests that, as a result, Secundus was killed, although Suetonius, in seemingly referring to the same episode, claims that Secundus was ultimately able to fight his way successfully out of his predicament.30
In 38 AD, Caligula staged further spectacles for the Roman populace, which were noted by Suetonius and Dio, our primary sources for his reign, not only for their extravagance, but also for the eccentric and cruel actions taken by the emperor during the events in question. First, Caligula allegedly forced a number of Roman citizens to fight in the arena as gladiators: according to Dio, it was not just the twenty-six members of the equestrian class killed on this occasion that prompted public displeasure, but also the Emperor’s lust for the bloodshed. Despite previous legislation, it appears that the problem of upper class Romans fighting below their station in the arena was still present at this time, since Dio states that some of the equestrians killed in 38 AD had previously engaged in other, non-lethal, gladiatorial bouts. Later in the same year, Caligula is said to have forced another equestrian to fight in the arena, ostensibly for insulting the emperor’s mother, Agrippina.31
In 39 AD, Caligula staged a particularly elaborate series of spectacles to commemorate the birthday of his recently deceased sister Drusilla. In addition to a public banquet and a display of pancratiasts (the pankration was the most brutal of the Greek combat sports, similar in some respects to present-day mixed martial arts), Caligula also staged chariot races as well as two days of venationes. The latter were even larger in scale than those he had put on two years previously: on the first day, 500 bears are said to have perished, while an equal number of Africanae died on the second day. Once again, these combats may have been staged for variety’s sake in the interlude between chariot races.32
Despite such lavish entertainments, however, and other acts of generosity like the provision of public banquets, Caligula failed, in the long run, to achieve the public adoration he sought. Instead, his cruel and fickle behaviour ultimately disillusioned more and more of his subjects, certainly contributing to the conspiracy that ended the Emperor’s life in 41 AD. One of the more famous instances of his cruelty, reported by the ancient sources, was the occasion when, in order to save money on the cattle normally used to feed the wild animals appearing in the arena, Caligula fed condemned criminals to them instead. On other instances, evidently out of spite, the Emperor would retract the awning (vela) which normally shaded spectators on particularly hot days, and exhibit subpar gladiators and wild beasts, much to the audience’s displeasure.33
The emperor who succeeded Caligula in 41 AD, his uncle Claudius, although not without his own behavioral quirks, nonetheless provided a welcome change to most of the Roman populace, and proved to be particularly popular among the lower classes. Part of this popularity was due to the public works the Emperor commissioned during his reign, such as new harbour works at the Roman port of Ostia, but public approval was also due to the various costly spectacles Claudius staged during his reign. Suetonius, in briefly noting the many munera produced during this period, actually coined a new adverb, plurifariam (‘of varied types’), to suggest their variety.34
Like his nephew, Claudius realized that the Roman people demanded entertainment, and he was more than happy to follow Caligula’s lead in this respect without, however, deliberately antagonizing the audience as his predecessor had done. One of the earliest recorded spectator events of Claudius’ reign, in fact, featuring chariot racing as well as venationes with 300 bears and 300 Africanae, was quite similar to events staged earlier by Caligula in 37 and 39 AD. Like his predecessor, Claudius also alternated beast hunts with chariot races so as to provide some variety for spectators.35
In the first year of his reign, the Emperor also removed the obligation of the praetors to produce munera on an annual basis, which had been re-imposed upon them by Caligula. Although this particular measure was no doubt popular among the magistrates affected, it did not, in the long term, lead to a reduction in the number of arena spectacles staged in Rome. In 47 AD, Claudius decreed that another group of magistrates, the quaestors, would no longer be responsible for the maintenance of roads. Instead, they would henceforth be expected to produce ten days of munera every December. As with a number of other steps taken during Claudius’ reign, this particular measure provided a precedent for later imperial policy, and in fact remained in effect, through various vicissitudes, until the fourth century.36
Dio relates that the Emperor’s fondness for arena spectacle, in particular gladiatorial munera, was thought to be excessive by some. This criticism was partly due to the fact that Claudius used such events as a means to punish and remove what he saw as less desirable elements of society. One of the major problems during the preceding reigns of Tiberius and Caligula had been the proliferation of maiestas, or treason trials. In the expectation of financial reward and/or gaining the emperor’s favour, there was no shortage of men willing to inform upon others, and in some cases employ fabricated evidence. A particular target of Claudius were slaves or freedmen who had informed upon their masters: many such men, according to Dio, were condemned to the arena where they were killed by wild beasts or other gladiators. The Emperor was thought by some to take an unseemly amount of pleasure in the blood spilled on such occasions.37
In other respects, however, Claudius took pains to endear himself to arena spectators. One important step undertaken by the emperor, out of deference to the senatorial class in Rome, was to assign specific, front-row seating to them at public spectacles. This measure, which further ensured that Roman senators would not have to sit among their social lessers at such events, formed a precedent for the seating arrangements at subsequent Roman spectacles. The Emperor, however, did not neglect the other segments of the Roman populace: according to Dio, he received special praise for his willingness to mingle with the common people in the audience at the staging of munera.38
Another group to whom the Emperor showed special deference was the Praetorian Guard. Claudius, in fact, owed his elevation to members of the guard, who had allegedly discovered him hiding in a closet in the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination. In order to consolidate their support, Claudius subsequently distributed a large cash donative to the Praetorian Guard, thereby setting a precedent for future emperors. In 43 AD, as a further honour, the Emperor staged a gladiatorial munus in the praetorian camp on the anniversary of his accession to the throne, appearing himself in military costume as an evident show of solidarity. Finally, at some point during Claudius’ reign (the exact date is not attested), members of the Praetorian Guard participated in a venatio wherein they killed Africanae from horseback.39
This display was just one of the events staged during the reign of Claudius that were noteworthy for their novelty and/or size. Another such spectacle was an exhibition of Thessalian bull-jumping, a type of event which evidently had not been seen in Rome since the days of Julius Caesar. Another event which was somewhat reminiscent of Caesar’s earlier spectacles, in particular the mass combat which had been staged in the Circus Maximus in 46 BC, was the simulated storming of a town put on in the Campus Martius by Claudius. While Caesar’s event was not intended to symbolize any historical battle, Claudius’ spectacle represented the recent conquest of Britain, and may even have included prisoners of war captured during that campaign. Having come to the throne in such an unorthodox fashion, the Emperor had felt that a successful military venture would be the ideal way to demonstrate his worthiness to rule and thereby secure support for his rule. In 43 AD, in fulfillment of this design, a Roman expeditionary force had crossed the English Channel and conquered southern Britain, a victory Claudius celebrated with a triumph and associated spectacles back in Rome. One of the significant features of the battle staged in the Campus Martius was the fact that Claudius presided over it in military costume. Although, in reality, the Emperor had not participated in the fighting of the campaign, it was important nonetheless, for propaganda purposes, to stress to the Roman populace that it had succeeded under Claudius’ military auspices.40
Undoubtedly, the most famous spectacle of Claudius’ reign was the massive naumachia staged on the Fucine Lake east of Rome. The Emperor, as another public service, wished to drain the lake because of its perceived role as a source of malaria. Before doing so, however, he wished to take advantage of the natural setting for another public spectacle, the largest recorded naumachia in Roman history. Like the previously discussed battle in the Campus Martius, the naval battle on the Fucine Lake took an ostensibly historical inspiration (a clash between the fleets of Rhodes and Sicily), although one not as near and dear to Claudius’ heart. Unsurprisingly, given the size of this event, a number of ancient historians describe it in their works, although their accounts are not always consistent with one another. Taken as a whole, however, these accounts suggest that the naumachia may have involved as many as 19,000 condemned criminals, fighting from as many as fifty vessels of varying types on each side. In addition, members of the Praetorian Guard – stationed on rafts with artillery – surrounded the fray, so that no vessel filled with the condemned might try to escape.41
Apart from its sheer size, this particular spectacle was also famous to posterity for the exchange between the Emperor and the combatants that took place prior to its commencement. Dio and Suetonius both present very similar accounts of this incident, namely that the condemned performers, evidently in hope of being pardoned for their crimes, cried out, ‘Hail emperor, we [or ‘they’] who are about to die, salute you.’ Subsequently, upon not receiving any sort of pardon, the performers displayed a certain reluctance to begin the sea battle, which understandably annoyed Claudius. There is, unfortunately, some confusion in the ancient sources as to the prisoners' ultimate fate once the naumachia finally began: Dio states that the criminals were forced to fight until all were destroyed, while Tacitus suggests that, after a bloody and hard-fought spectacle, the survivors earned a reprieve (at least on this occasion).42
Like his predecessor, Claudius ultimately was assassinated, not however because members of the Praetorian Guard plotted against him, but because of domestic intrigue. The chief architects of Claudius’ death in 54 AD were his wife (and niece) Agrippina the Younger, and her son, Nero, whom she wished to succeed to the throne instead of Claudius’ own son, Britannicus. Upon the Emperor’s death, mother and son were not slow to consolidate their power.
In many respects, Nero was reminiscent of Caligula. Apart from the fact that they both took the throne at a relatively young age, both emperors were also inordinately fond of the spectacles and other amusements, and spent vast sums of money upon them. Both Nero and Caligula also considered themselves talented performers in their own right, and were not hesitant to flaunt their supposed skill in front of their subjects. In addition, Nero, like Caligula, not being entirely satisfied with the existing spectacle venues at the start of his reign, built a new amphitheatre in Rome.
Early in his reign, Nero made some important, albeit shortlived changes to the organization of munera in both Rome and the provinces. In 55 AD, the Emperor exempted the quaestors from the production of arena spectacles, an obligation imposed upon them less than a decade earlier by Claudius. Two years later, Nero issued an edict that barred provincial governors from producing any sort of munus. The historian Tacitus, commenting upon the latter measure, presents it as a virtuous act on the part of the emperor, one that spared various communities from the exorbitant financial demands of governors staging such events. Nero’s earlier ban on quaestorian spectacles, sparing the officials in question from such an expensive undertaking, may be viewed in a similar light. Both of these laws, however, also presented at least one important benefit to the Emperor: by substantially reducing the number of officials who could stage munera in Rome and the provinces, the emperor could further monopolize the public acclaim surrounding such events for himself.43
The first series of spectacles Nero staged during his reign, in 55 AD, was, not surprisingly, reminiscent of those staged earlier under Claudius. Members of the Emperor’s bodyguard, for example, are said to have slain 400 bears and 300 lions, a similar quarry to that found in earlier munera. Dio also relates that, on this occasion, mounted men rode alongside bulls and brought them down. Dio nowhere uses the term ‘Thessalian’ to describe this particular event, but it does nonetheless seem to bear a resemblance to the Thessalian bull-jumping exhibited in Rome by Nero’s adoptive father. On the other hand, however, the same spectacle also saw thirty members of the equestrian class fight as gladiators, a practice not observed during Claudius’ reign. Unfortunately, it is not clear from Dio’s relatively brief account whether or not these men were compelled to fight by the Emperor, or if they were ordered to fight to the death.44
An even more elaborate series of events was staged by Nero in the wooden amphitheatre he had built in the Campus Martius in 57 AD. Our best description of this magnificent new venue comes from the poet Calpurnius Siculus, who appears to have been a contemporary of Nero. To judge from Calpurnius’ description, no expense was spared in the construction of this impressive new facility:
‘I saw a theatre that rose skyward on interwoven beams and almost looked down on the summit of the Capitoline…Just as the valley here expands into a wide circuit, and, winding at the side, with sloping forest background all around, stretches its concave curve amid the unbroken chain of hills, so there the sweep of the amphitheatre encircles the level ground, and the oval in the middle is bound by twin piles of building. Why should I now relate to you things which I myself could scarcely see in their several details? So dazzling was the glitter everywhere …’45
The accounts of Dio and Suetonius, although they overlap to some degree, focus upon different aspects of the show Nero staged in his new amphitheatre in 57 AD. Taken together, they illustrate what a unique spectacle this must have represented to the assembled audience. First, the Emperor flooded the amphitheatre (or part of it) to present a naumachia, ostensibly representing a naval battle between the Persians and Athenians. The fish and marine animals released into the water enhanced the realism of this particular event. No sooner had the sea battle ended than the water was drained away, and single and mass combats were staged between performers on the arena floor. On this particular occasion, the performers were not run-of-the-mill gladiators, but – according to Suetonius – 600 equestrians and 400 senators whom Nero had compelled to participate in his spectacle. We have already seen that the participation of the elite in arena spectacles was nothing new: what was a novelty was such a large group of nobles forced to participate in mass combat (gregatim). Subsequently, these same men were forced to participate in the venatio Nero also staged as part of the proceedings. Suetonius stresses that no one died in these contests, which indicates that they were more in the vein of weapon exhibitions or the like, rather than regular arena combat. He also adds the detail that some of those compelled to participate were wealthy and possessed spotless reputations, which seems to suggest that by this point, only those members of the nobility who had monetary difficulties, and/or were of questionable character, would normally be considered as potentially suitable for the arena.46
The aforementioned poem of Calpurnius Siculus also makes mention of an elaborate venatio staged in Nero’s wooden amphitheatre, featuring such animals as zebus, hippopotami, elk, and the now extinct auroch. It is not clear whether this particular event was part of the larger extravaganza staged in 57 AD. Calpurnius’ text, since it gives an excellent impression of the profound effect a lavish imperial spectacle might have had upon a regular citizen of the Empire, is worth citing at some length:
‘Look, the partition-belt begemmed and the gilded arcade vie in brilliancy; and withal just where the end of the arena presents the seats closest to the marble wall, wondrous ivory is inlaid on connected beams and unites into a cylinder which, gliding smoothly on well-shaped axle, could by a sudden turn balk any claws set upon it and shake off the beasts. Bright too is the gleam from the nets of gold wire which project into the arena hung on solid tusks … Beasts of every kind I saw; here I saw snow-white hares and horned boars, here I saw the elk, rare even in the forests which produce it. Bulls too I saw, either those of heightened nape, with an unsightly hump rising from the shoulder-blades, or those with shaggy mane tossed across the neck, with rugged beard covering the chin, and quivering bristles upon their stiff dewlaps. Nor was it my lot only to see monsters of the forest: sea calves also I beheld with bears pitted against them and the unshapely herd by the name of horses, bred in that river whose waters, with spring-like renewal, irrigate the crops upon its banks. Oh, how we quaked, whenever we saw the arena part asunder and its soil upturned and beasts plunged out from the chasm cleft in the earth; yet often from those same rifts the golden arbutus sprang amid a sudden fountain spray (of saffron).’47
The rotating ivory cylinders on top of the podium wall of the arena, as well as the gold netting mentioned by Calpurnius, actually served a practical purpose, as he alludes to in the poem. Many of the exotic animals collected by the Romans for their spectacles, such as tigers, could leap very high into the air, higher, in fact, than the podium walls of existing theatres or amphitheatres. If additional safety measures were not implemented, there was a significant chance of such animals leaping into the crowd and attacking spectators, detracting from the intended entertainment value of these events. Safety measures such as netting and rollers fixed on top of podium walls were common throughout the Empire: what set such measures apart in Nero’s amphitheatre, of course, was the costly materials with which they were constructed.
Other features of Nero’s amphitheatre were also reminiscent of those found at other venues. To judge from Calpurnius’ description, for example, the former was equipped with some sort of lift system in its basement, to allow animals as well as stadium props like trees to be brought rapidly to the arena floor. It also appears that, like some later amphitheatres, Nero’s venue had some sort of basin set into the arena floor that could be flooded. If the entire arena were flooded, of course, there would have been no way to keep animals and various stage props at the same time in the amphitheatre’s basement.48
The Emperor’s use of members of the nobility was not limited to the elaborate spectacle of 57 AD, but is also attested at other points during his reign. In 59 AD, as part of the spectacles Nero staged to commemorate his recently deceased mother, he had men and women of both the senatorial and equestrian classes perform publicly in a number of capacities, including as gladiators and beast fighters. He did so, according to the historian Tacitus, to make his own performing in public seem less shameful. Some members of the nobility who participated were forced to do so by the Emperor, while others, who had evidently fallen upon hard times financially, were more than willing to accept the lavish bribes offered for their participation. As late as 63 AD, Nero was still able to find both men and women of the nobility to participate in his munera.49
Members of the nobility were also forced to participate in one of the more singular participatory spectacles of Nero’s reign, one described with disgust by the later historians Tacitus and Dio. In 64 AD, Nero, in close collaboration with his praetorian prefect Tigellinus, used the stagnum of Agrippa created during Augustus’ reign as the venue for a series of events including gladiatorial combats, a naumachia, and venationes. The stagnum (or at least a portion of it) appears to have been alternately drained or flooded depending upon which event was taking place. According to Tacitus, Nero had collected a wide variety of both terrestrial and marine animals in preparation for these events. The ‘highlight’ of the occasion occurred when Nero and Tigellinus staged an elaborate banquet on barges floating in the lake, complete with brothels for the convenience of the Emperor’s guests. The women collected in these brothels, including members of the nobility, were forced to submit themselves to whichever guests demanded their services.50
A final series of spectacles from this period that must be mentioned are those following the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, one of the more infamous events of Nero’s reign. In the wake of this calamity, which destroyed much of the city, the Emperor offered aid to the survivors and enacted a number of beneficial measures, such as safer building standards for Rome. Nonetheless, many in Rome were unimpressed with Nero’s munificence, and went so far as to accuse him of setting the fire in the first place in order to clear ground for his magnificent new palace, the Domus Aurea, which he built in the heart of the city following the fire. To deflect such widespread public criticism, the Emperor decided he needed a scapegoat for the fire. He chose the Christians. Untold numbers were rounded up in the city and subjected to dire public executions that, according to Tacitus, were staged both on the grounds of Nero’s estate and in the Circus of Gaius and Nero. These executions featured some of the condemned wrapped in animal skins being mauled to death by dogs, as well as others being crucified by day and subsequently set alight as a source of illumination by night. Such excessive cruelty on the part of Nero, however, did nothing but prompt pity for his victims.51
The immolation of condemned criminals appears to have been a favoured method of execution during the reign of Nero. Tigellinus, for example, was said to have crucified and set alight his detractors in a manner similar to which Nero dealt with some of his Christian victims. An even more elaborate immolation, however, one involving a mythical re-enactment, was also staged during the reign of Nero, although the exact date is uncertain.52 On this occasion, a certain condemned criminal by the name of Meniscus was dressed up as Hercules in front of an audience and burnt alive. As is the case with many such executions recorded in our sources, it is not clear what crime he committed to earn such an awful punishment. The poem commemorating the event, however, mentions that Meniscus, like Hercules, stole apples from the Garden of the Hesperides, which has led to the suggestion that the former’s crime was perhaps trespassing onto the grounds of Nero’s Domus Aurea: certainly, with poetic licence, the divine Garden of the Hesperides could be likened to an imperial estate.53
The controversy surrounding the Great Fire of Rome and its aftermath was just one of the factors in the Emperor’s increasing unpopularity, an unpopularity that ultimately resulted in his removal from the throne and suicide in 68 AD. In the struggle for power which ensued, the so-called Year of the Four Emperors, not many munera are recorded in the ancient sources: the candidates for the throne, understandably, devoted the majority of their attention to political and military affairs, rather than public entertainment. The emperor Vespasian, who emerged victorious from the civil war in 69 AD, is said to have staged several venationes during his decade of rule, but evidently not many gladiatorial bouts, due to his dislike of the latter type of spectacle.54
Far more important than the spectacles staged during Vespasian’s reign was the magnificent new amphitheatre begun under his rule, the Colosseum. The emperor, as the founder of a new imperial dynasty (the Flavians) following a bitter civil war, was at pains to rally the Roman populace behind him and his heirs, and in this respect, the building of the Colosseum was a brilliant propaganda success. First, the site of the Colosseum was carefully chosen to draw a contrast between the hated Nero and Vespasian. The amphitheatre was built where an artificial lake had once been located on the grounds of Nero’s Domus Aurea, land that had been dedicated to the emperor’s own amusement. By contrast, of course, the Colosseum was built for the benefit and enjoyment of the Roman people. Additionally, the head of the colossal statue of Nero which had been erected beside his lake (and which gave the later Colosseum its name), was altered to that of the much more pleasing sun god, Sol. Also, as we know from the Colosseum’s dedicatory inscription, the funds for building this structure came from the considerable booty which the Roman army under Vespasian and his son Titus had recently captured while crushing the revolt in Judaea which had broken out late in Nero’s reign. Therefore, the Colosseum also stood as a permanent reminder of the military victories of the Flavian dynasty.55
The Colosseum, representing the pinnacle of amphitheatre design, was a truly worthy entertainment venue for the capital of the Roman Empire. The building as a whole measured some 188m by 156m, and is estimated to have held as many as 50,000 spectators. One particular design feature instituted for their comfort was the velum, a linen awning that could be extended over the seating sections to provide protection from the elements. The complicated rigging for the velum, ultimately attached to the top tier of the amphitheatre by a series of wooden masts, resembled nothing so much as the rigging of a ship, and it is no surprise that a detachment of sailors from the naval port of Misenum were entrusted with furling and unfurling it as need demanded. The stone façade of the amphitheatre, crafted from travertine stone, was decorated with Greek and Roman architectural orders, bronze statues and shields in the 240 arches of the facade, and a triumphal arch on the first level, marking access to the imperial box within. Finally, in its developed form, the basement of the Colosseum contained almost 200 animal cages, as well as a complicated system of lifts and ramps whereby both beasts and spectacle props (eg. artificial trees) could be raised to the level of the arena in a matter of minutes. The scale and design of this amphitheatre, unsurprisingly, was copied to varying degrees by a number of larger cities throughout the Empire in an attempt to place themselves on an equal footing with the imperial capital (at least in terms of entertainment amenities), El Djem in North Africa being just one notable example.56
Vespasian, unfortunately, did not live to see his magnificent monument completed. It was left to his son and heir Titus to inaugurate the Colosseum with a magnificent series of spectacles lasting a hundred days in 80 AD. Unsurprisingly, a number of ancient authors commemorate these events in their works. Perhaps the most impressive is the book of poems, On the Spectacles, written by the contemporary poet Martial to immortalize the occasion. 9,000 animals are said to have been killed in the various venationes which took place at this time and, if Suetonius is to be believed, 5,000 of these were killed in a single day. As stated earlier, figures such as these are commonly assumed to be inflated. Nonetheless, the figures given for the inaugural games of the Colosseum represent the second highest attested total in Roman history of animals slain in the arena, which in and of itself gives us a notion of just how comparatively large in scale these events were. Another notable feature of these venationes, according to Dio, was the fact that not just male venatores were involved in killing these animals, but female performers as well.57
Ancient testimony also maintains that a number of aquatic spectacles were staged in the Colosseum at the time of its inauguration. As already noted, the finished basement of the Colosseum contained animal cages, spectacle props, and a lift system, which would have made a flooding of the arena floor impossible. The consensus among scholars, however, is that the basement in its final form was not constructed until the reign of Domitian (81–96 AD), which would have made possible the aquatic spectacle recorded for the Colosseum’s inauguration. It is unclear, however, whether the entire arena was flooded, or only a basin built into the arena floor: examples of the latter are periodically found in later amphitheatres outside of Rome.58
The first aquatic event was a recreation of a naval battle between the Corcyrans and Corinthians. Presumably, this particular display involved some of the gladiators who, according to Dio, fought both on land and on water as part of the inaugural spectacles. A second marine event in the Colosseum, also attested by Dio, appears to have involved horses and bulls performing some sort of nonviolent dressage routine in the water. As Coleman notes, the water on this occasion must have been quite shallow, or else the animals involved would have just swum around or trod water, rather than perform any sort of manoeuvres.59
Two other aquatic events which appear to have been staged in the Colosseum, and which drew their inspiration from Greek mythology, were a group of ‘Nereids’ (water nymphs) cavorting, and ‘Leander’ swimming to meet his beloved, Hero. In the original myth, Leander drowned while on his way to one of these trysts. It has been suggested, therefore, that the man who played the role of Leander in the latter spectacle, like performers in other known mythical re-enactments, was a condemned criminal, and that the original intention of this event was for him to drown like his mythical namesake. If so, the somewhat enigmatic reference in the contemporary poet Martial’s account of this spectacle, that ‘Leander’ was ultimately spared by ‘Caesar’s wave (Caesaris unda)’, may mean that, perhaps at popular request, Titus ultimately decided to spare him.60
The aquatic spectacles staged at the Colosseum’s inaugural games were not limited to that venue. A number of ancient authors record, in varying degrees of detail, the three days of events Titus also staged on the stagnum of Augustus. The poet Martial gives the fullest and most picturesque description:
‘It had been the labour of Augustus to pit fleets against one another here and rouse the waves with naval trumpet. What fraction of our emperor’s achievement does this amount to? Thetis and Galatea have seen strange beasts among the waves; Triton has seen chariots churning up the water like dust, and thought it was his master’s horses galloping by; and while Nereus was organizing fierce battles for the hostile fleets, he shuddered to go on foot over the limpid water. Whatever can be seen in the Circus and the Amphitheatre the diverse wave has provided at a blast of Caesar’s trumpet. Boasting about Fucinus and Nero’s pools should stop: posterity must acknowledge this naumachia, and this one only.’61
As Martial suggests, the events staged at the stagnum included gladiatorial combat, chariot racing, a venatio, and a naumachia representing the famous conflict between Athens and Syracuse during the Peloponnesian War. Taken as a whole, the different accounts of these spectacles suggest a wooden platform was built over part of the stagnum on which the gladiators, venatores, and animals fought. The venatio, in particular, must have been massive in scale, since Suetonius suggests that this is the occasion on which 5,000 animals were killed in a single day. The herding of various animals from the platform into the water during this combat probably explains the reference in Martial’s poem to the sea deities Thetis and Galatea seeing ‘strange beasts’ in the water.62
The naval battle staged on the final day of events in the stagnum appears to have been approximately the same size as Augustus’ recreation of the Battle of Salamis staged at the same venue just over eighty years earlier: both naumachiae, for example, featured 3000 combatants, most likely prisonersof-war and/or condemned criminals. One interesting feature of Titus’ spectacle was that, although inspired by an historical battle, its outcome did not correspond to historical reality – in this instance it was the ‘Athenians’ who defeated the ‘Syracusans’.63
The ahistorical outcome of the naval battle on the stagnum of Augustus highlights one of the important propaganda messages that the spectacle presented to the assembled audience. On one level, of course, the lavish and costly naumachia represented the wealth and munificence of the emperor. Perhaps even more importantly, however, it represented his supreme power. Not only could he recreate a famous historical battle for the audience, he could also (at least in the eyes of the spectators) alter its outcome as he saw fit. Other aquatic spectacles presented by Titus broadcast the same message: forcing terrestrial animals to fight or perform dressage manoeuvres in water, for example, symbolized the emperor’s almost divine power to subvert the laws of nature for the amusement of both himself and the assembled spectators.64
Some of the public executions presented as mythical re-enactments by Titus and his brother Domitian, as commemorated in Martial’s On the Spectacles, served a similar function. Two such spectacles saw condemned criminals dressed up as Daedalus and Orpheus ultimately torn apart by bears in the arena. The significance of their manner of death is that it was not how either figure died in myth: Orpheus, for example, who was famed for playing music sweet enough to charm even wild beasts, was torn apart by women. Once again, however, the alleged power of the emperor was such that he could rework the famous myths of antiquity to his own liking.65
One particularly grisly execution recounted by Martial merits special discussion:
‘Believe that Pasiphae was mated to the Dictaean bull: we have seen it, the old legend has won credence. And let not hoary antiquity plume itself, Caesar: whatever Fame sings of, the arena affords you.’66
In Greek myth, Pasiphae was the wife of King Minos of Crete, who developed an unnatural affection for his prize bull. Thanks to the aid of Minos’ court inventor, Daedalus, Pasiphae was ultimately able to mate with the bull, thereby giving birth to the monstrous Minotaur nine months later. In the horrific execution recounted by Martial, a female condemned criminal in the guise of Pasiphae was mounted by a bull in the arena, which proved fatal for the woman in question. Some scholars in the past have speculated that Martial in this instance exaggerated, and that such a method of execution was implausible. Enough other evidence does exist, however, to suggest that having women mounted and/or mauled by various wild animals was a common enough method of execution. The first century Christian writer Clement of Rome, for example, records women in the guise of Dirce being executed in the arena: since a bull killed Dirce in myth, we can assume that her arena counterparts were as well. As a final example, a number of clay lamps discovered in Athens, depicting women being mounted or mauled by a wild ass, are thought to represent executions in the arena, a method of punishment also mentioned by the second century writer Apuleius in his Metamorphoses.67
In one sense, of course, the execution recounted by Martial again symbolized the power of the emperor to make the world of myth, even the most fantastic or implausible elements, come alive for spectators. On another level, however, executions such as those of ‘Pasiphae’ represent the Roman state’s apparent desire to punish female capital offenders in a particularly harsh manner. Apparently, such women were considered doubly dangerous: their crimes, in general, not only represented an affront to Roman justice, but also the fact that traditionally subservient women in patriarchal Roman society would dare to commit such crimes presented a serious threat to Roman social order in and of itself. The especially horrific executions reserved for female criminals, then, served both to punish whatever specific crime had been committed, and to reassure spectators that the traditional gender roles of Roman society had been restored.68
It is important to note that not all of the attested spectacle re-enactments of the Flavian period revolved around famous Greek naval battles or episodes from Greek myth. Incidents from Roman history were also presented to the audience. On at least one such occasion during the reign of Domitian, an unfortunate criminal was forced to re-enact the exploits of the early Roman hero Scaevola. In Roman lore, Scaevola was renowned for unflinchingly burning his right arm to a crisp in order to demonstrate the bravery and tenacity of the Roman people to the Etruscan king, Lars Porsenna. Similarly, in the arena spectacle, the criminal playing the role of Scaevola was forced to burn his own arm. It is unclear in this case if the punishment was meant to be fatal, or if the loss of an arm was deemed sufficient penalty by the Roman authorities. Once again, this spectacle served the function of reassuring the audience of the efficacy of Roman justice; it also served the added purpose, however, of glorifying an episode from Rome’s own illustrious past.69
Domitian had much more opportunity to use the Colosseum for various spectacles than his brother Titus, who died unexpectedly in 81 AD after only two years on the throne. Suetonius notes, in fact, that throughout his fifteenyear reign, Domitian staged numerous extravagant events not only in the amphitheatre but the Circus Maximus as well.70 One of the most memorable munera of Domitian’s reign was the exhibition of a two-horned rhinoceros in the Colosseum. One-horned rhinoceroses had sporadically appeared in previous Roman venationes, but this is the first recorded appearance of the multi-horned variety in Rome. Domitian’s rhinoceros, to judge from the poetry of Martial, thrilled the audience not only because of its novelty, but also because of its strength and fury:
‘The rhinoceros displayed all over the arena, performed for you, Caesar, battles that he did not promise. How he lowered his head and flamed into fearful rage! How mighty a bull was he, to whom a bull was as a dummy!’71
The poems of Martial were not the only means by which this event was commemorated for posterity: a series of coins depicting two-horned rhinoceroses, datable to sometime between 83 and 85, evidently allude to Domitian’s spectacle in the Colosseum.72
We have already noted the general connection between the exhibition of various exotic animals and contemporary Roman territorial claims. In the case of the rhinoceros displayed by Domitian, however, we may be able to draw a more detailed connection between this particular animal and current Roman exploration in eastern Africa. The investigation of this region appears to have begun in earnest during the reign of Nero, when a detachment of the Praetorian Guard marched to the upper Nile. Among the alleged objectives of this expedition was military reconnaissance for a possible campaign in the region, as well as an attempt to discover the source of the Nile. The surviving accounts of this undertaking, however, also suggest that the Romans had a keen interest in the local flora and fauna: their scouts made note of the monkeys and parrots encountered during the journey, as well as the tracks of rhinos and elephants they found near the city of Meroe on the upper Nile.73
These reports of exotic fauna may have in part inspired a later expedition to Ethiopia under the command of a certain Septimius Flaccus. Flaccus and his troops are said to have marched over the course of three months from Libya to Ethiopia through the land of the Garamantes. Unfortunately, many other details of this expedition remain unknown, such as the exact identity of Flaccus, or the date of his undertaking: the scholarly consensus appears to be that the expedition was launched in the late 70s AD. One of the purposes of this march was probably to overawe the Garamantes, and thereby curb any future attacks on Roman territory. Another aim of Flaccus and his men, however, may have been to capture exotic beasts for the spectacles in Rome, most notably those associated with the opening of the Colosseum. Given the thousands of animals which are said to have been killed on that occasion, as well as the fact that wildlife rich Ethiopia was an important source of exotic beasts for Roman venationes, it would perhaps have been strange if Flaccus and his men did not take an active interest in the various animals they encountered on the course of their march.74
Flaccus’ expedition, in turn, may have prompted the later exploration of a certain Julius Maternus, and the acquisition of the two-horned rhinoceros commemorated both by Martial and the coinage of Domitian. According to the geographer Ptolemy, Maternus accompanied the king of the Garamantes on a campaign against the Ethiopians, and after a march of a little more than four months, reached the territory of Agisymba, which ostensibly had a sizeable population of rhinoceroses. As in the case of Flaccus’ earlier march, there are a number of questions surrounding the expedition of Maternus: was he, for example, a military commander or a civilian trader, and where exactly was Agisymba located? The exact date of Maternus’ endeavour is also unclear, although it must have occurred between the expedition of Flaccus and 110 AD, thought to be the latest possible date of composition for Ptolemy’s work. The possibility certainly exists, however, in part because of the specific mention of rhinoceroses in Ptolemy’s account, that Maternus’ expedition to central Africa took place during the reign of Domitian, and that it was he who sent the exotic two-horned rhinoceroses back to Rome to feature in the emperor’s spectacle.75
Like earlier emperors, Domitian also staged spectacles that, through forcing the animals involved to behave contrary to their natural instincts, demonstrated his supposed power over nature. Such displays included bisons drawing chariots, as well as animals such as leopards and bears being led in procession. By far the most impressive spectacle for the audience, however, were the lions trained to allow hares to pass in and out of their open mouths unharmed. The following is just one of the six poems Martial wrote to commemorate this particular spectacle:
‘We have seen the pranks, the sportive gambols of the lions, Caesar (this too the arena offers you), when the hare as often as seized returned from the gentle fang and ran at large through the open jaws. How comes it that a greedy lion can spare his captive prey? Ah, but he is said to be yours. Therefore he can.’76
No expense was spared for the elaborate series of spectacles Domitian staged in the fall of 89 AD to celebrate his recent victories against the Dacians on the lower Danube. Among the more notable events of this period were mass infantry and cavalry battles in the Circus Maximus, reminiscent of those staged by Caesar at his triumphal celebrations over a century earlier, as well as a naumachia in a new stagnum which Domitian had excavated for this very purpose. Since Suetonius records that the emperor also staged such an event in the Colosseum, it is possible that the naval battle in Domitian’s stagnum took place after the amphitheatre’s basement had been equipped with animal cages and the like, thereby rendering it unsuitable for further aquatic spectacles.77
According to a number of ancient sources, the most notable innovation of Domitian’s triumphal celebrations, as well as other spectacles staged during his reign, were the unique performers he sometimes enlisted for such events. On at least one occasion, in fact, the emperor staged combats of women and dwarves for the audience. The contemporary poet Statius gives the most vivid description of such an event:
The sex untrained and ignorant of weaponry takes stand and dares engage in manly combat. One would think them troops of Thermodon in battle heat by Tanais or wild Phasis. Here comes a bold string of midgets. Nature is cramped for them, finished in a trice, she tied them once for all into knotted balls. They deal wounds and mingle fists, and threaten one another with death-by what hands!’78
One of the questions pertaining to such events concerns the amount of training the participants received beforehand. Obviously, one of the main attractions for spectators on these occasions was the novelty of seeing women and dwarves fight as gladiators. Yet was this novelty enough to maintain audience interest, particularly if, as suggested by our ancient sources, combats of women and dwarves were staged on several occasions during Domitian’s reign? In the passage cited above, Statius suggests that the women, in particular, received no training before they fought. In the same passage, however, he likens their fighting prowess to that of the mythical Amazons. Faced with this contradictory evidence, it is perhaps preferable to assume that the women and dwarves received at least some training before they fought in public. Otherwise, there would be little to maintain spectator interest once the initial novelty of seeing them perform as gladiators wore off.
Not all the members of the audience, however, were necessarily enamoured of such a spectacle. In his sixth satire, written not long after the reign of Domitian, the poet Juvenal includes in his litany of the alleged vices of the fairer sex the fact that (horror of horrors!) some of them even fight as gladiators: ‘What modesty can you expect in a woman who wears a helmet, abjures her own sex, and delights in feats of strength?’79 Presumably, however, the moral outrage professed by Juvenal over such performers was not shared by a majority of his contemporaries, or else Domitian would not have staged munera featuring them on more than one occasion, as appears to be the case. Nonetheless, as we shall see, the staging of similar spectacles featuring female gladiators during the reign of Septimius Severus approximately a century later does appear to have provoked considerable outrage, enough at least, for the Emperor to ban women fighting in the arena.
Such was Domitian’s passion for the munera, and his evident desire to be seen as a munificent emperor, that he forced various officials to stage spectacles under his auspices. As Suetonius notes, Domitian not only revived the munera staged by the quaestors during his reign, but also made sure to attend them.80 In addition, the Emperor decreed that priests administering the Quinquatria, an annual festival dedicated to Domitian’s patron deity Minerva, should stage venationes as part of the festivities. Evidently, no expense was spared for these events: even a hostile source like Suetonius describes them as eximias (‘outstanding’).81
Domitian also demonstrated his generosity to the Roman populace through other means at such events. At the aforementioned quaestorian games, for example, the emperor would allow the audience to select two pairs of gladiators from his own imperial stable, who would then fight as a grand finale to the day’s events. On three separate occasions, Domitian also gave a largesse of 300 sesterces to each of the assembled spectators. Finally, the Emperor is credited with staging a large public banquet as part of the annual Septimontium festival at least once during his reign, followed by a random distribution of prizes to the audience. Nonetheless, Domitian, when provoked, was not hesitant to exercise his infamous cruelty upon spectators who earned his displeasure: on one occasion, according to Suetonius, the Emperor had a citizen thrown to the dogs who had dared to suggest that Domitian showed undue favoritism towards the ‘Thracian’ gladiators.82
Another recorded victim of Domitian in the context of the spectacles was a former consul, Acilius Glabrio. At some point during his later reign, the Emperor evidently forced Glabrio to fight a lion and bears at the former’s private estate. The fact that Glabrio appears to have slain the animals pitted against him with relative ease suggests that this was certainly not the first time he had participated in such a dangerous event, and that, by extension, the practice of Roman aristocrats periodically fighting in such spectacles had not died out entirely, despite previous measures against it. Nonetheless, it was evidently considered an unseemly enough activity for a member of the Roman elite by Domitian’s day that he could use it as a pretext for Glabrio’s subsequent execution. Although the latter was condemned for fighting as a gladiator against wild animals, it may be that the emperor’s jealousy was the real cause of Glabrio’s death. Domitian was inordinately proud of his hunting and archery skills, and quite possibly took a dim view of Glabrio showing him up by overcoming such dangerous animals.83
The considerable costs of the many spectacles and associated extravagances of Domitian’s reign further contributed to the acrimonious relationship between the Emperor and the senatorial aristocracy in Rome. Like Caligula before him, Domitian was forced to employ unorthodox means to cover such expenditures: Dio, in fact, alleges that many of the prominent citizens executed or murdered during Domitian’s reign were killed so that their wealth could be expropriated for the imperial treasury. Unsurprisingly, when the Emperor did fall victim to an assassination plot in 96 AD, it was members of the senatorial elite who took the most pleasure in this event.84
Suetonius’ collection of imperial biographies, one of our main sources for the spectacles of the early Empire, unfortunately ends with the assassination of Domitian. For subsequent imperial spectacles, we have to rely, in part, upon fewer written sources, sometimes of questionable veracity. The Scriptores Historiae Augustae or SHA, for example, a collection of imperial biographies extending from the early second to the late third century AD, is notorious for the quantity of dubious material found within its pages. Nonetheless, the accumulated evidence does indicate that imperial spectacles continued to grow in scale following the reign of Domitian, reaching their height during the subsequent century.
The main action taken by Domitian’s successor Nerva (96–98 AD), with regard to the munera, was to limit their production to save the imperial treasury money after the excesses of Domitian’s reign.85 The next emperor, Trajan, however, whose reign from 98 to 117 AD saw the Empire reach its maximum territorial extent, had no such problem with finances: as a result, some of the largest recorded spectacles in Roman history occurred under him.
The most important of the many military campaigns waged by Trajan were his two wars against the Dacian king Decebalus, which resulted in the annexation of Dacia (roughly corresponding to modern-day Romania). One of the main advantages of this conquest, apart from stabilizing the Roman frontier on the lower Danube, was the abundant mineral wealth of the new province, which allowed Trajan to commemorate his victories with a magnificent new forum in the heart of Rome, as well as lavish spectacles.
Dio, for example, recounts that Trajan staged gladiatorial munera to celebrate his first victory over Decebalus in 102 AD, although he gives no specifics as to their size or scale. Whatever events the emperor staged on this occasion, however, were dwarfed by the subsequent spectacles, including a naumachia, organized to celebrate Trajan’s second and final victory over Decebalus in 105 AD. Over the course of 123 days, some 10,000 gladiators fought in munera staged by the emperor. Perhaps even more astonishing to a modern reader, however, is Dio’s claim that 11,000 animals were killed in the numerous venationes which took place over the same period of time, an even larger number of animal fatalities than those attested for the inaugural games of the Colosseum some twenty-five years earlier. Trajan probably included numerous native Dacian animals in these events as another means to remind the assembled spectators of his recent conquest.86
Trajan’s successor Hadrian (117–138 AD), although he staged no events as large as those associated with the Dacian triumph of 105 AD, nonetheless was very active in producing arena spectacles and other public entertainments during his reign, not only in Rome but also in other cities which he visited as emperor. According to the SHA, for example, Hadrian often staged beast hunts in the Circus Maximus featuring over a hundred lions. The same source also alleges that one of the Emperor’s birthday celebrations in Rome included a venatio involving over 1,000 beasts. Perhaps this is the same event referred to in an inscription from nearby Ostia, which records the killing of 2689 animals at a spectacle staged by Hadrian in approximately 120 AD. The emperor is also said to have put on a venatio involving 1000 beasts for the Athenian populace during one of his visits to that city.87
One important measure passed by Hadrian with regard to the games was a law that forbade the sale of slaves to gladiatorial schools without just cause. This particular decree followed the precedent of an earlier law, likely instituted in the late first century AD, which similarly forbade slaves from being condemned to the venationes by their masters without due process. Hadrian’s legislation, however, should not be taken as an indication he disliked gladiatorial munera: as alluded to previously, he was an avid enthusiast of such events. On one notable occasion, according to the SHA, the emperor sent 300 condemned criminals into the arena to fight wearing gold-embroidered cloaks he had just received as a diplomatic gift from the king of the Iberians, in order to advertise his disdain for this particular offering. According to the same source, such was Hadrian’s passion for the arena that he was actually well versed in the use of gladiatorial weapons.88
Despite his alleged mastery of gladiatorial combat, there is no record of Hadrian ever personally descending into the arena to fight as a gladiator. At least once, however, he is said to have publicly fought wild animals as part of his birthday celebrations in Rome. According to Dio, on the occasion in question, the emperor killed a hundred lions and an equal number of lionesses.89 Certainly, a number of sources, including the Hadrianic hunting roundels affixed to the Arch of Constantine in Rome, amply attest to Hadrian’s love of hunting in the wild. Given this passion for the hunt, it is perhaps understandable that, at least once during his reign, Hadrian might wish to display his skills to the Roman public. The emperor’s participation in public spectacle, however, was evidently not on such a scale as to provoke public displeasure, unlike that of the emperor Commodus later in the century.
The continuing growth in scale and slaughter of imperial munera over the first and early second centuries AD appears to have been accepted enthusiastically by most Romans, to judge from the extant literary evidence. Contemporary criticism of the spectacles, predominantly leveled by writers belonging to the upper classes, largely concerned their particular appeal to the lower classes, or the unruly behaviour they might provoke in the audience. Most commentators appear to have had no issue with the actual events on the arena floor: virtually no complaint is found, for example, concerning the hundreds or even thousands of animals killed in the massive venationes of the period. Suetonius, in fact, notes with approval the 5,000 animals allegedly slaughtered on a single day during the inaugural games of the Colosseum, as emblematic of Titus’ munificence. Even the hated Domitian is praised by the same writer for the eximias venationes (‘outstanding beast hunts’) produced during his reign. By contrast, Suetonius criticizes Caligula for insulting the Roman people through exhibitions of subpar gladiators and animals. Certainly, by the reign of Hadrian, when Suetonius wrote his imperial biographies, it was expected that any self-respecting emperor would produce lavish munera and other spectacles for the Roman people.90
The reign of Hadrian’s successor, Antonius Pius (138–161 AD), arguably witnessed the apex of the Roman Empire. With few exceptions, the frontiers were quiet during his rule, and the state was at the height of its prosperity. Unfortunately, our sources for Antoninus Pius’ reign are not particularly abundant, but they do indicate that on at least two special occasions, the Emperor took advantage of these settled and prosperous conditions to stage magnificent spectacles for his subjects in Rome.
The first of these spectacles appears to have been staged in 148 or 149, probably to celebrate the 900th anniversary of the foundation of Rome. Coins minted at that time, depicting diverse animals including lions and elephants, and bearing the legend MUNIFICENTIA (‘Munificence’), evidently were issued to celebrate this event. A passage from the SHA also appears to refer to this particular munus:
‘He [Pius] held games at which he displayed elephants and the animals called corocottae [hyenas?] and tigers and rhinoceroses, even crocodiles and hippopotami, in short, all the animals of the whole earth; and he presented at a single performance as many as a hundred lions together with tigers.’91
In this instance, the Emperor was not using exotic animals to advertise a recent military conquest, but instead to show the extent of Roman territory on both land and sea under his benevolent rule.92 A decade later, Antoninus Pius once again included exotic animals like tigers in the games staged to celebrate his twentieth anniversary on the throne.
Apart from the evidence for these two spectacles, however, not much specific information is preserved concerning arena munera during Antoninus Pius’ reign. The SHA merely notes that the Emperor carried out repairs on the Colosseum during his reign, and instituted a limit on the amount of money spent on a gladiatorial spectacle.93 Evidently, the exorbitant cost of staging munera in communities outside Rome had become ruinous for many local officials responsible for their production, and the Emperor’s legislation was intended to provide some measure of relief. Antoninus Pius’ successor, Marcus Aurelius (161–180 AD), as we shall shortly see, was compelled to introduce similar legislation during his reign.
The latter, of course, is famous for his philosophical proclivities, and it is not at all surprising, given such inclinations, that he was not especially fond of arena spectacles. Although Marcus Aurelius staged a number of munera in Rome during his reign, such as a venatio that featured the slaughter of a hundred lions, he himself had evidently little interest in attending them, and is said to have only done so under compulsion. Marcus Aurelius’ attitude towards such events contrasts with that of Lucius Verus who, at Marcus’ behest, co-ruled the Empire with him from 161 to 169 AD. The latter is said to have been so fond of gladiatorial spectacles and other forms of entertainment that he neglected administrative matters. As the SHA states, apart from his lack of cruelty, Lucius Verus was in many ways a second Nero.94
The most significant action undertaken by Marcus Aurelius in respect to arena spectacles was undoubtedly the law he introduced along with his son and heir Commodus in 177 AD to limit the expense of gladiatorial munera. As noted previously, by the second century the cost of staging such events had evidently become prohibitive for many local magistrates and officials in the cities of the Empire. Priests of the imperial cult in these communities, who were responsible for staging various public spectacles as part of their official duties, were particularly hard hit financially. In an effort to lessen expense, the new law not only placed a limit on the amount that could be charged for different grades of gladiators, but also abolished the taxes previously levied upon the munera and their production, a cost evidently passed on from the lanistae to the officials organising such events.95 Marcus Aurelius’ attitude towards arena spectacles is nicely encapsulated in the section of the law concerning this abolition of taxes on the munera:
‘And so they [Marcus Aurelius and Commodus] removed the Fiscus [imperial treasury] from the arena completely. For what does the Fiscus of Marcus Aurelius and [Commodus] need with the arena? All the money of these emperors is pure, not contaminated by the splash of human blood, not soiled with the wealth of sordid gains, and it is as innocently produced as it is collected.’96
Despite his participation in the promulgation of this law, Commodus (180–192 AD) subsequently proved to have a much more enthusiastic attitude towards arena spectacles. Not content, in fact, merely to be a spectator, the Emperor himself ultimately participated in such events to display his supposed martial prowess to the Roman people. According to the contemporary historian Dio, who, as a member of the Senate, was forced to witness the Emperor’s exploits in the arena, many of the new taxes introduced by Commodus during his reign were used specifically to fund lavish venationes and gladiatorial spectacles.97
Dio provides us, in particular, with a vivid account of the fourteen consecutive days of spectacles staged by Commodus late in his reign, perhaps on the occasion of the ludi Romani in the autumn of 192 AD. The emperor would descend into the arena in the costliest finery available to fight as venator or gladiator, sometimes as both on the same day. In the latter contests, Commodus would fight as a secutor, his favourite type of gladiator. It is important to note, however, that these bouts were much more akin to sparring matches than fatal duels, and certainly posed no danger to the Emperor. Commodus himself was armed only with a wooden sword and shield, and his opponents would speedily submit to him after merely being wounded.98
Even more memorable were the Emperor’s exploits as a venator in the arena. Commodus saw himself as the new Hercules, a fact amply attested by the coinage and sculpture of his reign, and as such, missed no opportunity to demonstrate that his hunting skills, particularly with the bow and arrow, were equal to those of his mythical role model. Among the animals slain by Commodus in public, according to ancient testimony, were many bears, lions, hippopotami, elephants, and rhinoceroses, as well as a giraffe and tiger. Dio even claims that the Emperor, once again in imitation of Hercules, slew disfigured men in the arena he had dressed up in the guise of giants from Greek myth. Once again, it is important to note that such spectacles were carefully organized to place Commodus in no real danger: the Emperor, for example, hunted bears from intersecting crosswalls above the arena floor so he could spear them in perfect safety.99
Arguably, the most famous hunting exploit of Commodus involved his slaughter of Mauretanian ostriches. Such was the Emperor’s marksmanship with crescent-tipped arrowheads that he is said to have routinely decapitated the birds with a single shot. This was possibly the infamous occasion, as related by Dio, when Commodus attempted to threaten the assembled senators by brandishing a severed ostrich head at them from the arena floor, a ridiculous spectacle, however, which provoked more amusement than fear.100
The erratic behaviour of Commodus both inside and outside of the arena alienated not only members of the Senate, but also prominent officials like his praetorian prefect, Laetus, commander of the imperial guard. Ultimately, the latter was one of the ringleaders of the plot that ended with Commodus’ assassination on the last day of 192. According to ancient testimony, the plot was set in motion by the discovery that the Emperor was planning to execute a number of prominent officials, including Laetus, and issue forth from the gladiatorial barracks on the first day of the new year as both consul and secutor. This latest harebrained scheme appeared to many in the Emperor’s entourage as final proof of his irredeemable madness.101
While much of the ancient testimony concerning Commodus, in particular Dio’s history, reflects the attitudes of the upper or senatorial class in Rome, another contemporary historian, Herodian, provides some insight as to what the broader Roman populace thought of their emperor’s exploits in the arena. The following passage immediately follows Herodian’s description of the Emperor’s hunting exploits:
‘So far, Commodus was still quite popular with the mob even if his conduct, apart from his courage and marksmanship, was unfitting for an emperor. But when he ran into the amphitheatre stripped and carrying his weapons for a gladiatorial fight, the people were ashamed to see a Roman emperor of noble lineage, whose father and forebears had all celebrated great triumphs, now disgracing his office with a thoroughly degrading exhibition, instead of using his weapons to fight the barbarians and prove himself worthy of the Roman empire.’102
We have already seen that in Roman society participation in arena spectacles was generally considered to be beneath the dignity of members of the elite, much less the emperor. Herodian’s account suggests, however, that fighting against wild beasts, perhaps because it was viewed as symbolizing power over nature, was deemed preferable to fighting against the dregs of society as a gladiator. A reflection of this attitude can perhaps be seen in the coinage of the period: while such coins periodically depict various exotic animals, as well as venationes in the arena, not a single coin minted in Rome depicts gladiators or a gladiatorial combat.103
We will end our survey of imperial spectacles, for the time being, with the reign of Commodus. His death, the end of the Antonine dynasty, ultimately led to a struggle for the throne, out of which Septimius Severus emerged victorious in 193. Although Severus himself was a competent ruler, the dynasty he founded was not characterized by the type of strong rule enjoyed by Rome throughout much of the second century. Even worse, the assassination of the last Severan ruler in 235 ushered in the so-called era of the soldier-emperors, a half-century when the Empire faced a myriad of challenges, including civil war and disastrous defeats on the frontiers. The challenges faced by the Roman state at this time, unsurprisingly, contributed to changes in the nature of imperial spectacles in the later Empire, which we shall address in a subsequent chapter.