Thanks to Hollywood recreations such as Gladiator, nothing symbolizes the cruelty of Imperial Rome as much as the Colosseum.  In truth, the games held there were even more extreme and theatrical than modern film directors dare to suggest.

A day at the Empire’s most famous arena was a total entertainment package, mixing bouts of savage violence with solemn religious pageantry, sexual titillation, slapstick comedy and kitschy stage shows.

During the regular festivals, 50,000 spectators would line up early in the morning at the Colosseum’s splendid vaulted entrances with their numbered wooden tickets, eager to take their places.  Thanks to the advanced design, there were no bad seats in the house, although men and women were separated, and the higher social classes got ringside seats near the Emperor’s box. The day’s schedule began with the slaughter of wild animals – ostriches, lions, panthers, bears and leopards brought back from military campaigns.  This was followed by the brutal executions of criminals.

According to accounts by Roman writers like Martial, the condemned might be dropped into cages filled with poisonous snakes, castrated or crucified.  For comic relief, the executions were interspersed with pantomimes, acrobats and clowns.  Erotic dancers would perform in gauzy costumes, while perfumes from Arabia wafted from braziers.  Between acts, the audience was showered with figs, dates, nuts, cheeses and pastries donated by their generous host, the Emperor. But of course the gladiatorial combats, held in the afternoon, were considered the main event.

Hollywood makes them look more like modern boxing prize fights, but the bouts were far more confusing to follow.  Dozens, even hundreds, of fighters were often in the arena at once, and the duels were often set to music.  Although there are no surviving scores, we know the bands included flutes, trumpets, horns and even hydraulic organs.  Elaborate scenery was also provided – enormous backdrops and cut-outs would be raised from underground chambers, transforming the arena in an instant to the deserts of the Nile or jungles of Africa.  Dwarves would run amongst the combatants dressed as Mars, the God of War, egging them on.  When a gladiator fell, he would be poked with hot irons to ensure he wasn’t feigning death; an attendant dressed as Pluto, God of the Underworld, then bounded forth with a giant mallet, to administer the coup de grace.

In summer, this relentless schedule of gore, sex, comedy and spectacle went on late into the night, with hundreds of slaves carrying lanterns for illumination. Historians believe that few Romans objected to the violence of the Colosseum.

The otherwise humane philosopher Seneca recommended a visit to the games as a way to get over melancholy.  In his Confessions, the Christian author St. Augustine himself admitted to a youthful fascination with gladiatorial bouts.  Taken to the amphitheater by friends, he found himself utterly addicted to the endless permutations on the theme of cruelty.

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