70.1.
The Emperor Vespasian ordered a new amphitheater to be
built from the booty [of the Jewish War in AD 70].
Inscription (see Claridge, p.
278)
70.2.
Vespasian built an amphitheater in the middle of Rome,
a building he knew Augustus had also been planning.
Suetonius, Vespasian
9.1
70.3.
The emperor Titus was second to none of his
predecessors in his provision of public entertainment. When the
Amphitheater was dedicated [in AD 80] along with the baths hastily
constructed next to it, Titus gave phenomenally lavish and expensive
games. He also put on a mock naval battle in the old Naumachia [a
stadium designed to be flooded], and then held gladiatorial combats
in the same place, which on one day alone included 5,000 wild
animals of all kinds.
Suetonius, Titus
7.3
70.4.
During his reign [AD 79-81] Titus did little that was
exceptional, apart from the incredible shows he gave for the
dedication ceremonies of the hunting theater [the Colosseum] and the
baths that are named after him. One contest pitted whooping cranes
against each other; in another four elephants fought. Animals both
tame and wild were slaughtered, to the number of 9,000. Women
(though none of any standing) took part in the killing; many men
fought in single combat, but many others fought in squads, on both
foot and in boats, since Titus had this same theater quickly flooded
… Others also fought on boats in the basin in the Gardens of Gaius
and Lucius [the Naumachia], which Augustus had excavated for just
such battles.… Such spectacles lasted for one hundred days. Titus
supplemented them with some more useful entertainment:
he threw little wooden balls down on the audience of the
amphitheater, each inscribed with a little picture of the prize that
those who caught the balls could pick up from the appropriate
officials: the prizes included food, clothing, vessels of silver and
gold, horses, mules, cattle, and slaves.
On the last day of his games, Titus was seen to weep.
When they were over, he accomplished nothing great, dying the
following year.
Dio, History
66.25
70.5.
The Emperor Commodus [AD 180-192], initially an avid
spectator of the gladiatorial shows, then participated in them is
well. In the arena, he would drape his bare shoulders in a purple
cloth.… Although the audience would cheer his frequent appearances
in the arena as they would a god's, he suspected it was all in
mockery and had the naval crew (stationed at the Colosseum to work
the awnings) execute spectators.
Imperial Lives, Commodus
15.3,6
70.6.
[Bad omens abounded in the short reign of Macrinus,
Caracalla's successor. In AD 217] the hunting theater was struck by
lightning on the very day of the Vulcanalia which started such a
serious fire that the entire upper ring and the arena at the bottom
were consumed by flame, and the rest of the structure in between was
cracked and weakened by the fire.… For several years, gladiatorial
combats had to be put on in [Domitian's] Stadium.
Dio, History
79.25.2, 3
70.7.
The Emperor Alexander Severus [c. AD 230] placed a tax
on pimps and both male and female prostitutes, with the stipulation
that the income thus raised go not into the public treasury but
towards the cost of restoring the Theater, the Circus, the
Amphitheater, and the Stadium.
Imperial Lives, Severus Alexander
24.3
70.8.
[Visiting Rome for the first time in AD 357] the
emperor Constantius II gazed over the regions of the city and
suburban estates that ringed it, thinking, as each object met his
view in turn, that it excelled everything else in height: the Temple
of Jupiter, rising above its surroundings the way divine things rise
over earthly; the imperial baths, piled high to the volume of a
province; the sturdy mass of the Amphitheater encased in its frame
of travertine, soaring to heights difficult to reach with the human
eye.
Ammianus, History
16.10.14
70.9.
[In AD 508] the consul Venantius Basilius repaired at
his own expense the arena and the podium around the arena after they
were destroyed by a terrible earthquake.
ILS 5635 = CIL
6.32094
70.10.
Seneca to Lucilius: [Note: Seneca's
account was written before the Colosseum was built.]
You ask me what, above all else, we should avoid in
life? The crowd, I say. You are not yet ready to expose yourself to
it unscathed. In fact, I'll confess my own weakness in this regard:
I never bring back home the same morals I had before I entered a
crowd.
Nothing, however, compares with the damage done to a
good character by spending time in the crowd at the games.… The
other day I happened to attend the midday intermission of a
gladiatorial show, expecting to catch something amusing and
refreshing, something to give the eye a break from all the human
gore. I couldn't have been more mistaken. The midday show made the
earlier fighting look like compassion; this was pure homicide,
without any of the former frills.… There were no helmets and no
shields. Why involve armor, or skill? Such things would just get in
the way of death. In the morning, men are thrown to lions and bears;
at midday they are thrown to the spectators. Those who are
victorious and kill their opponent are forced to face others who
will kill them; the victor must always fight again, until he dies;
there is no way out but death. To make sure the fights continue, the
criminals are prodded with spears and branded by fire. This is what
happens when the arena is empty, between shows.
“But the man in the arena is a robber, he
killed someone!” you might respond. But why should you
have to sit through such a spectacle because he killed someone? What
did you do wrong, that you deserve to witness this? “Kill!
Strike! He hangs back: burn him! … Why doesn't he die with more
enthusiasm? Whip him back into the fight.” And if there is
a break in the action: “Boring! Let's have some throats
slit!”
Seneca the Younger, Letters
7, selections
70.11.
My friend Alypius had come to Rome before me [c. AD
380] with the intent of learning law, and was swept away by a
violent and extraordinary passion for gladiatorial shows. Until then
he detested and avoided such entertainment, but one day some of his
friends and schoolmates ran into him on their way back from lunch,
and although he resisted and spoke strongly against joining them,
they dragged him off with friendly force into the amphitheater on a
day that featured cruel and mortal combat. “Maybe you can
drag my body into the stadium,” Alypius said,
“but can you force my mind and eyes to attend such
entertainment? I will be present, and yet absent, and so defeat both
you and the games.”
When his friends heard this, they pulled him along with
no less enthusiasm, perhaps eager to find out if he was able to make
good on his boast. By the time they were able to find seats, the
crowd was in a state of brutal rapture. Alypius shut tight the doors
of his eyes, forbidding his mind from paying attention to such
evils. If only he could have sealed his ears! For when,
in response to some knock-down in the arena, the giant roar of the
entire crowd pounded on him, Alypius, overcome by curiosity but
still confident that he could condemn and be the master of whatever
he looked on, opened his eyes. Struck with a wound more deadly for
his soul than for the body of the man who was the object of his
sight, he fell, and fell more pitifully than that man whose fall
occasioned the uproar.… For as soon as he saw the blood, he drank up
the savagery, and did not then look away, but stared and swallowed
the fury without knowing that he drank, thrilled by the crime of the
combat and intoxicated by the bloodlust. No longer was he the person
who had entered, but one of the crowd he had joined; he was now the
true companion of those who had led him in.
St. Augustine, Confessions
6.8
89.6.
[In AD 217 the Colosseum was struck by lightning and
badly damaged in the resulting fire.] As a result, gladiatorial
combats were held in the Stadium for many years.
Dio, History
79.25.3
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