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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/lastgladiatorialOOshor 
 
c %g^¥C 
 
 THE 
 
 Last Gladiatorial Show. 
 
 JOHN T. SHORT. 
 
 / 
 
 CINCINNA TI: 
 
 HITCHCOCK AND WALDEN 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 CARLTON AND LAN A HAN. 
 
 1872. 
 
S55 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 
 
 BY HITCHCOCK & WALDEN, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 E take pleasure in presenting this little 
 volume to the young people, particu- 
 larly the more advanced, who are form- 
 ing a taste for historical reading. 
 
 Imperfect as it may be, if it should induce any 
 to turn their attention to the inexhaustible store- 
 houses of fact, rather than to the emptiness of 
 fiction, it will have served its purpose. While it 
 has been our endeavor at all times to represent 
 to you, in a small measure at least, the wonder- 
 ful influence of Christianity upon a dark age, we 
 have not sought to cover up the inhuman vices 
 of that age, but have brought them forward for 
 your abhorrence. 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 A work of this nature is, of necessity, to a 
 great extent, historical in itself; and for those 
 who may desire a more extended reading on the 
 subjects herein mentioned, as well as for the 
 purpose of rendering "credit to whom credit is 
 due," we have appended occasional references to 
 some of the chapters. 
 
 J. T. S. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 (K I a !bt i a 1 r J5 . 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. Introductory History, 9 
 
 IL Amphitheaters, 19 
 
 III. Spartacus, or the Gladiatorial War, . . 25 
 
 IV. Spartacus and the Jewish Gladiator, . 37 
 V. Gladiatorial Shows of Nero, . . .51 
 
 VI. Burning of the Amphitheater, ... 64 
 
 VII. The Coliseum, 74 
 
 VIII. Spectacles, ....... 82 
 
 PART II. 
 
 IX. Paul and Anthony, 95 
 
 X. Ambrose, Archbishop of Milan, . . . 109 
 
 XI. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen, . 123 
 
 XII. John Chrysostom, the "Golden Mouthed," 138 
 
 5 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTKR. PAGH. 
 
 XIII. Sketch of John Chrysostom — Concluded, . 150 
 
 XIV. Simeon Stylites, 163 
 
 XV. Observations on Monasticism, . , . 172 
 
 PART III. 
 
 ^f)t (Kotf)U Mar anli i\)t 3Last (Klabfatortal ^fjob. 
 
 XVT. The Goths, . . . . . . . 189 
 
 XVII. Alaric and the Rising of the Goths, . . 199 
 
 XVIII. Crowning of Alaric, 210 
 
 XIX. Flight of Honorius, 222 
 
 XX. Battle of Pollentia, 231 
 
 XXI. Telemachus, . . . . . . . 244 
 
 XXII. The Last Gladiatorial Show, . . . 254 
 
 XXIII. Conclusion, . 274 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Coliseum, Frontispiece. 
 
 Gladiators ix Training, 22 
 
 The Roman Amphitheater, . . . ' . . • 53 
 
 Boy Martyr op the Arkna, 91 
 
 A Monk of the Desert, 174 
 
 Alaric Defending his Wife and Child, . . 233 
 
Part I. 
 GLADIATORS 
 
GLADIATORS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ! 
 
 INTRODUCTORY HISTORY. 
 
 EAR READER, the subject we have 
 before us is an old one, yet has never 
 been presented in a readable form to 
 young knowledge-seekers. Its great fund 
 of interesting information has mostly been 
 confined to the dusty shelves of classical 
 libraries, locked up in the silence in which 
 the old Latin and Greek languages have 
 kept it. We know of no better way in 
 which we can avoid the arduous labor and 
 almost endless task of translating "many 
 a quaint and curious volume of forgotten 
 than by visiting old Italy ourselves, the 
 
 You and I, 
 9 
 
 lore 
 
 cradle and the grave of gladiators. 
 
lO THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 then, in company, propose to pay a visit to those 
 scenes of bloodshed and barbarity enacted two 
 thousand years ago. What if we do Uve in the 
 nineteenth century ? All the better. We have 
 a grand advantage over our fellow-Roman spec- 
 tators. They viewed them as heathens do ; v^^e 
 will view them as Christians. Three things in 
 particular are necessary in making our visit. 
 First, we must transport ourselves to the sun- 
 niest of lands in Southern Europe, and touch at 
 Rome, its capital. A pretty long journey indeed. 
 Yet, as we are moderns, even though we do in- 
 tend to pay a visit to the past, I do not see that 
 we should be denied the use of the speediest 
 means of travel employed in these fast times. In 
 fact, in view of the peculiar nature of our visit, the 
 speediest of all will be far the best; and, as you 
 leave the choice with me, I know none quicker 
 than thought. (By this we mean the common 
 acceptation of this term.) 
 
 The second necessity is also a journey, not 
 through space, but through time. Instead of 
 miles to measure by, we will now use years. We 
 want to count out about two thousand of them, 
 backward, in our time-glass. A tiresome journey 
 this one is, as is the other ; but, by using the 
 same conveyance, they are both easily accom- 
 plished. 
 
GLADIATORS. II 
 
 Our third necessity is, that we should be long- 
 lived. Although we do not go quite back to the 
 patriarchs, why can not we live as long as they, 
 at least six short centuries and a half, so that we 
 may grow up and witness the progress of gladiato- 
 rial combats in the different stages of their devel- 
 opment, and then be allowed to die with them as 
 nobly and well as did our hero St. Telemachus. 
 
 Two hundred and sixty-four years before Christ, 
 upon the Mediterranean — that highway of the na- 
 tions — we find three great centers, around which 
 lesser states and kingdoms have grouped them- 
 selves, and before whose threatening arms all 
 tremble. Athens, the first and oldest of these 
 three, is already on the decline. Content with the 
 glory of her former arms and triumphs, like an 
 oarsman resting on his oars, she has, at the same 
 time, lost the battle and the race for glory, and 
 her scepter has passed into the hand of a stranger 
 (Antigonus of Macedonia). Just across the water, 
 to the southward, is Egypt, the land of pyramids 
 and Ptolemies. Philadelphus is her sovereign, 
 under whose direction the Hebrew Scriptures 
 were translated into the Greek language, but 
 whose throne is now shaken by civil dissension. 
 In Italy we find Rome; yes, and in her ''heroic 
 age" at that — in the days of the Republic. Her 
 sun, though hardly at its zenith yet, is advancing 
 
1 2 THE LAST G LABIA TORIAL SHO W, 
 
 rapidly thitherward. Her arms are the terror of 
 all peoples. Her power is waxing greater, while 
 that of all others is waning. She is absorbing 
 the rest. Utter heathenism is the religious char- 
 acteristic of this age ; nevertheless, virtue has not 
 yet taken her departure. Such are the times in 
 which we are now supposed to be living. Having 
 arrived at Rome, we proceed to consider the sub- 
 ject which has brought us hither. Like all tour- 
 ists, we must be on the lookout for sights of every 
 description, but in particular for gladiatorial shows. 
 Although living in the two hundred and sixty- 
 fourth year before Christ, yet we are Christians. 
 The scenes that we have come to look upon are 
 of the wickedest sort ; and, while we do not be- 
 lieve the old adage, "A bad beginning makes a 
 good ending," we trust that the acquaintance we 
 have formed may see a better end than the be- 
 ginning that we are about to make. We, how- 
 ever, hope, before that end, to look upon the 
 good, the true, the noble, and love them more for 
 first having seen the bad. 
 
 But who are these coming down the street.? 
 They appear to be mourners ; yes, it is a funeral — 
 of some nobleman at that. How immense the 
 train ! How rich the cloak of that Senator yonder 
 as he walks in the dress of his office ! 
 
 The bier upon which the corpse is laid is borne 
 
GLADIATORS, 1 3 
 
 on the shoulders of men. . Here are the family 
 of the deceased, all dressed in white, the mourn- 
 ing of the Romans. Following them is a long 
 train of clients, bitterly bewailing the death of 
 their lord. Next comes a great retinue of slaves, 
 not different from the rest in color; for the Ro- 
 man slave is not the dark-skinned savage caught 
 on the southern coast of Africa, but the prisoner 
 taken in war, who often has as much culture, and 
 even more wealth, than has his master. A pro- 
 miscuous crowd of people compose the remainder 
 of the procession, all eager to see the funeral cer- 
 emonies outside of the city. Let us join them. 
 
 Passing through the gate, we arrive at a place 
 where a lofty pile of dry wood has been carefully 
 erected. Upon this pile the corpse is laid ; a 
 friend steps forward and pronounces a short 
 eulogy upon the noble dead, and invokes the 
 favor of the gods upon the solemnities about to 
 be celebrated in honor of the departed spirit of 
 Brutus, one of that noble line which sprung from 
 Junius Brutus, who, two hundred and forty-five 
 years since, banished the Tarquins from Rome, 
 and changed the government from a monarchy to 
 a republic. 
 
 A fire-brand is applied to the funeral pile, and, 
 in an instant, all is ablaze. 
 
 The greedy flames have already hidden the 
 
14 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 corpse from view. Hitherto it had been the cus- 
 tom for the friends of noble Romans to sacrifice 
 one or more slaves at their burial. It was to see 
 this cruel barbarity that many had assembled, 
 and it is with a shout of applause that they hail 
 the appearance of the two sons of the deceased, 
 followed by two slaves armed with short, sharp 
 swords. Poor wretches — the expression of their 
 faces alone is enough to make one's heart sick. 
 The last hope of life, and liberty, and friends is 
 smothered. Despair is traced in every feature. 
 Those stalwart limbs that have endured many a 
 weary march, and those sinewy arms that have 
 struck many a death blow in the wars for freedom, 
 are now helpless as those of a child. They come 
 expecting to be sacrificed to the departed spirit 
 of the dead. But, for the first time, the custom 
 is to be departed from, and it is announced that 
 these two warriors are to fight for their life. But 
 this is not all — the victor shall have his freedom. 
 A sudden change passes over those downcast 
 countenances. As to Samson of old, strength re- 
 turns to those limbs. They grow impatient to 
 face the death so certain to one of them, and this 
 impatience arises only from the faint glimmer of 
 hope which flashes through their minds. A dis- 
 tant picture of home and loved ones now nerves 
 them for the combat. 
 
GLADIATORS. 15 
 
 But who are these men ? How came they here ? 
 Such physical frames are rarely met with. One 
 is a Gaul, whose boyhood's home was among the 
 Alps. Over their snowy peaks and yawning 
 abysses he had hunted the chamois, and had in- 
 haled from those mountain fastnesses the inspiring 
 air of freedom. He had joined his fellow-country- 
 men in their march on Rome, and had been taken 
 captive in battling the Roman Consul Quintus 
 ^milius. Eighteen long years had he spent in 
 servitude, and now had come to die in a gladiatorial 
 combat. The other warrior is one of those bold, 
 hardy Etrurians who dwell north of the Tiber — a 
 son of Italy, with the same fire in his blood as 
 have his captors. He was taken captive in the 
 same battle with the Gaul. How well they are 
 matched! Their stalwart limbs are covered with 
 knots of muscles, their arms and chests are like 
 those of some colossal statue. Their dress con- 
 sists only of a helmet, a girdle, and sandals. Thus 
 arrayed for the encounter, the signal is given. 
 Shall we turn away our eyes.? If we were to 
 consult the better side of our nature we certainly 
 would. But the sight before us is so novel and 
 exciting that we can not refrain from looking. 
 With uplifted swords they advance and meet. 
 At first they parry with each other, but soon 
 strike more boldly. Now their blades clash 
 
1 6 THE LA S T GLAD I A TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 loudly together. One yields a step, and then re- 
 gains it. Ah ! one is slightly wounded — ^it is the 
 Gaul. Like a Numidian lion enraged, he springs 
 toward his foe, who, by a skillful side-movement, 
 avoids him, and assumes an attitude of defense. 
 The fight is no longer a play, nor an exhibition 
 of skill simply as such. Determined on death or 
 victory, they close in awful combat.. Can we look 
 any longer.? Yes, we must. The Gaul drives 
 his sword into the shoulder of the Etrurian, who, 
 at the same time, receives his assailant on the 
 point of his blade. Fortunately for the Gaul, the 
 steel strikes a rib, and goes no farther; but that 
 good fortune is only temporary. The Etrurian, 
 mangled and bleeding, refuses to die ; and, with 
 yet a faint hope of life and liberty, begins anew, 
 and the scene of blood is only completed by each 
 plunging his sword into the other's breast. The 
 Etrurian, from weakness and loss of blood, irn- 
 med lately drops dead. The Gaul, with a faint 
 grasp, snatches the sword from his own bosom, 
 and, falling upon his elbow, looks first toward the 
 far North, and then to the sun just sinking into 
 the western sea, and bids it a last farewell, as he 
 recalls to mind the last time he saw it set from 
 the craggy Alps. 
 
 "You are free!" is the shout that arises from 
 the multitude. Startled, and as though new life 
 
GLADIATORS. I7 
 
 had returned, he raises himself to a sitting pos- 
 ture, mutters for the last time that dear word, and 
 then falls back/r^^ indeed ; free from the cruelties 
 of this world; free from the bondage he had en- 
 dured for so many years. Is not this all? No. 
 The same barbarity is yet to be repeated twice. 
 We can look on no longer; we can not witness 
 such another sad scene. So we can withdraw 
 until the heathen ceremony is over, and then we 
 will observe what transpires. The fight ended, 
 the excited crowd disperses — the dead bodies of 
 the gladiators are dragged off, and thrown into 
 the Tiber. 
 
 The attendants carefully gather up the ashes 
 of the deceased Brutus and place them in a costly 
 urn. This, with vessels containing little phials 
 of tears shed by the mourners, is deposited in 
 the family tomb side by side with the ashes of his 
 noble ancestors. 
 
 Thus ends the fii^st gladiatorial show. Heart- 
 sickened and disgusted we are indeed with the 
 cruelty of our Roman friends, and were it not 
 that we have come so far to see the wickedness 
 of the great city — the natural outgrowth of a re- 
 ligion without any love or mercy in it — we would 
 invite you to mount again our airy car and return 
 with me across the broad expanse of waters that 
 separates us from a land of peace and fraternal 
 
i8 
 
 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 love. But the fates will otherwise. We have a 
 work to do, and that is to view these scenes of 
 cruelty from their origin to their decline and ruin. 
 Let us return to the city, wiser and better, if it 
 may be, from this day's experience. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AMPHITHEATERS, 
 
 ET US live hastily now for a couple of 
 centuries, only noting the exhibition of 
 the most important gladiatorial combats. 
 The mere knowledge of their having been exhib- 
 ited is sufficient for our purpose. The Romans 
 had become so impassioned at the sight of blood, 
 at such funeral solemnities as that of Brutus, as 
 to be altogether too impatient to wait for the 
 death of prominent citizens. At their funerals 
 alone they celebrated these barbarities ; so they 
 instituted these very games for popular amuse- 
 ment in their forum. O, Rome! how cruel thou 
 art becoming ! With thy growing power thy in- 
 humanity increases. We know thy claim that 
 familiarity with blood makes thee more brave, 
 gives thee that irresistible heroism that is con- 
 quering the world so fast. Tribe after tribe bows 
 in allegiance, prince after prince crowns the tri- 
 umphal march of some conqueror through thy 
 
 19 
 
20 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 imperial city. Why, already it is "better to be a 
 Roman than to be a king." It is not enough for 
 thee to vote a triumphal entrance to your victo- 
 rious generals, with royal captives chained to their 
 chariot-wheels, and hundreds of servants bearing 
 the rich spoils of cities on their shoulders ; but, 
 to all this, you must add gladiatorial shows, held 
 in your forum, the very place where public justice 
 is administered, and yet you make it the place of 
 the severest injustice to slaves. 
 
 The forum, then, is a place of interest to us. 
 Let us visit it. We find it situated on a large, 
 open space between the Capitoline and Palatine 
 hills. Rectangular in its form, but considerably 
 longer than it is wide. It is surrounded with ele- 
 gant and spacious halls of white marble in which 
 the courts are held. It is adorned with statues, 
 and at one extremity is a magnificent rostrum upon 
 which the eloquence of Rome is paraded. It is 
 the place where all public and political meetings 
 are held ; in fact, it is the public square. 
 
 On one side of the square, as we have chosen 
 to call it, are shops of merchandise and provis- 
 ions in general, where the people buy their mar- 
 keting. We have been in Rome only fifty years 
 (which is but a small portion of the life we yet 
 have to live), when we find the sons of Emilius 
 Lepidus — who had been Consul three times — en- 
 
GLADIATORS. 21 
 
 tertaining the people in the forum with a show 
 which lasted three days, during which twenty-two 
 gladiators fought, the majority of whom were 
 killed. In the year 200 B. C, and on several oc- 
 casions intervening between that date and the 
 year 182 B. C, Valerius Laevinus exhibits as many 
 as twenty-five pairs at once ; and, in the eighth 
 year after the last-named date, he caused seventy- 
 four gladiators to entertain the people with their 
 barbarous butchery. The populace became so 
 fond of these bloody entertainments in the course 
 of time that not only the friends of every wealthy 
 citizen lately deceased, but also all the public 
 magistrates, presented them with shows of this 
 nature for the purpose of procuring their regard 
 and applause. For nearly two hundred years, the 
 ^diles. Praetors, Consuls, and especially the can- 
 didates for office, ingratiated themselves into the 
 favor of the people in this way. The expense 
 was usually borne by the public treasury, but it 
 was frequently paid from their own private purse. 
 As these shows become grander, and at the same 
 time more bloody, amphitheaters come into use. 
 Let us visit one, through permission, while no 
 entertainment is being given. We find a very 
 large wooden building of elliptical form, three 
 stories high. On the outside the timbers are very 
 heavy, as the weight inside to be supported when 
 
22 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 the building is filled is immense. Within is a 
 large and spacious area called the arena. Around 
 this rows of seats are constructed one above an- 
 other, receding backward toward the top. At 
 one extremity is a raised platform highly deco- 
 rated, and covered with luxurious seats for Sena- 
 tors and dignitaries. The building is unroofed, 
 except that a large canvas is stretched across, at- 
 tached to masts or spars that rise uprightly from 
 the tops of the walls. The arena is inclosed by a 
 wall of timbers, in which sharp iron spikes are 
 driven, so that the wild beasts, recently introduced 
 into these shows, might not climb up to the seats 
 above. In this wall, at regular intervals, are mas- 
 sive doors made with bars of iron. Upon looking 
 into one we are saluted by the growl of a huge 
 lion who paces his cell to and fro. His natural 
 fierceness has increased from the pangs of hunger. 
 We are permitted to enter another door, which 
 leads to the School of the Gladiators. Here they 
 are trained to fight as to a profession. In a large 
 room are a great number of fierce, stalwart men, 
 whose muscular strength is more like that of the 
 lion we saw in his den than that of men. Their 
 master is with them. In the center of the room 
 are two of these giants, clad in armor, fighting 
 with foils or wooden swords. The master himself 
 is also clad like them, and occasionally assumes 
 
GLADIATORS IN TRAINING. 
 
GLADIA TORS, 2$ 
 
 the place of one of the combatants in order to 
 teach them some particular movement or strike 
 with the sword. Their modes of fighting are 
 various. Some fight blindfolded, in chariots or 
 on horseback — a dreadfully awkward and uncer- 
 tain way. Another mode of fighting is in troops 
 of equal numbers, where they fight as a body a 
 regular battle. A third way is in complete armor 
 of helmet, buckler, shield, and short sword or 
 poniard. A fourth is to match a full-clad gladi- 
 ator against one without armor, armed only with 
 a three-pointed lance or trident, and a large net 
 with which he endeavors to entangle his antago- 
 nist by throwing it over his head. In case he 
 should miss his aim, he immediately takes to 
 flight in order that he may re-adjust his net for a 
 second cast. 
 
 The masters of the gladiators make them all 
 swear that they will fight until death ; and, if 
 they are unsuccessful in the fight, they are put to 
 death, either by the sword of the victor, or, if 
 it is thought they are cowardly and desire to vio- 
 late their oath, they are put to death by fire or 
 clubs, or by whipping. It is considered a crime 
 for the poor wretches to complain when they are 
 wounded, or even to ask for death. They are ex- 
 pected to face it with the coolest, unflinching 
 heroism when overcome. It is, however, usual for 
 
24 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 the Emperor, or people, to grant them Hfe when 
 they evince no signs of fear, but await the fatal 
 stroke with courage and intrepidity. This grant 
 of life is usually given by a sign generally made 
 with the hands ; but Rome has become so blood- 
 thirsty from familiarity with such scenes as to 
 have lost much of her former mercy, and it is sad 
 indeed that, when many a luckless combatant who 
 is exhausted with fatigue and faint from wounds, 
 implores the mercy of his adversary, too often the 
 theater resounds with the cries of the frantic 
 spectators, " Let him receive the sword !" and 
 their sanguinary sentence is instantly sealed in 
 the blood of the wretched suppliant. Valor is 
 never wanting upon these occasions ; the glad- 
 iator is even taught to fall gracefully when he re- 
 ceives the mortal stroke. Besides, he endeavors 
 to express no sense of pain or solicitude. If we 
 can learn no more from them, or find nothing else 
 in them to admire it is their unflinching courage 
 and constancy. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SPARTACUS; OR, THE GLADIATORIAL WAR. 
 
 |PON the mountain side, near the waters 
 of the Danube, in the heroic land of 
 Thracia, dwelt one of the princes of that 
 
 race of noble warriors, and now shepherds, who 
 had sprung originally from Grecian ancestors. 
 The same blood still flowed in their veins, and 
 the same spirit still prompted them to daring 
 action. This prince had a son just in the vigor 
 of his boyhood. A noble youth indeed was Spar- 
 tacus. Daily he led forth his father's sheep upon 
 the mountain side, through narrow passes and over 
 the craggy rocks, for whose familiar faces he had 
 formed such an attachment. It was upon these 
 vine-clad hills he spent the days of his peaceful 
 boyhood. At noon, with the son of a neighbor 
 whom he loved as a brother, he sat under the 
 shade of some native arbor while the sheep rested 
 at their feet. There they sat and sang and played 
 
 25 
 
26 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 upon the flute the airs of freedom and their father- 
 land. The two shepherd boys were almost wed 
 to each other by those bonds of youthful affection 
 which are of all the purest and most lasting. 
 Often, at night, Spartacus sat and listened to the 
 tales of ancient wars told by his venerable grand- 
 father ; and, one night in particular, as he listened 
 to the old man's stirring narrative, in which he 
 told of Marathon and Leuctra, the heart of the 
 boy beat fast, and the hot blood that ran to his 
 cheek told of the fire that had been kindled within. 
 It was not until his mother had brushed the heavy 
 locks from his forehead, and bade him forget these 
 cruel tales of bloody war, that he consented to 
 retire. That very night the Romans landed on 
 those shores. The sword and torch devastated 
 those green hills, and the friend and companion 
 of Spartacus was carried away captive. The 
 bold Thracians courageously resisted the invading 
 army, and by their unequaled valor, with the ad- 
 vantage of their mountain fastnesses, repelled the 
 Romans for a time ; and it was not until some 
 few years later that they were entirely subdued. 
 In the mean time, our gentle shepherd youth had 
 grown up to a gigantic manhood. The daughter 
 of the neighbor had taken the place of her brother 
 and become the wife of Spartacus, who had mar- 
 ried her, partly to protect her from the enemy, 
 
GLADIATORS. 2/ 
 
 but more especially because he loved her, both for 
 her own sake and her brother's. Finally, their 
 brave army was overwhelmed by the Roman le- 
 gions, and our hero and his wife carried captive to 
 the Imperial City. One day, while on exhibition in 
 the forum for sale, he fell asleep and a huge ser- 
 pent, to the surprise and terror of by-standers, 
 came and twined itself around his face, but loos- 
 ened its hold again without injuring him. His 
 wife then said that it was a sign that he would 
 rise to something very great and formidable, the 
 result of which would be happy. He was finally 
 bought by a man named Lentulus Batiatus, living 
 at Capua, who kept a great number of gladiators, 
 who were mostly Gauls and Thracians. There 
 Spartacus was put in training, and for twelve 
 years slew every man and beast the empire could 
 furnish to contend with him in the arena. 
 
 It is the year 71 B. C. Lentulus, the Consul, 
 is returning with triumphant legions from Rome 
 to Capua, the principal city of Campania. Sup- 
 pose we visit it. Upon passing up the street we 
 see show-bills painted in brilliant colors, repre- 
 senting the arena, and wild beasts, and gladiators. 
 Uppermost and in the largest letters is the name 
 of Spartacus, who will also appear. Let us hasten 
 thither. Upon our arrival, we find the amphi- 
 theater filled from top to bottom, row upon row of 
 
2S THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 anxious and excited faces waiting to see the chief 
 of gladiators, who will soon be brought forth. 
 Several combats have already taken place, and 
 the white sand in the arena is stained with blood. 
 At one extremity, in an elevated position, is seated 
 the Consul and his olfificers. We are not required 
 to wait long before a door is opened, and a gi- 
 gantic form is ushered forth clad in complete 
 armor. The visor of his helmet is thrown up, 
 and we behold a face so noble, so self-possessed, 
 that we can not but remember that it was not 
 always used to such scenes of horror. But what 
 a form ! a complete giant indeed, yet, while so 
 large, he is the perfect statue. While he pos- 
 sesses the strength of ancient Hercules, he is at 
 the same time as elegant and graceful as Apollo. 
 His broad chest, his sinewy arms, and symmetri- 
 cal limbs are all that an artist could desire for a 
 model. 
 
 But while we are looking at our hero our at- 
 tention is attracted by the opening of an iron 
 door that grates heavily upon its hinges. A 
 huge African lion bounds forth, uttering a terrible 
 growl. At sight of the spectators he stops, half 
 bewildered by the scene. Then he discovers the 
 gladiator in the arena. Slowly he strides away, 
 as if he had not discovered him at all ; but 
 swordsman and beast are eyeing each other with 
 
GLADIA TORS. 29 
 
 equal vigilance. The lion at last turns full face 
 upon the man, puts his head to the ground, 
 throws up his shaggy mane, and utters a roar 
 that shakes every timber in the amphitheater; 
 then, with a measured pace and head down, walks 
 toward Spartacus, who stands holding his sword 
 as calmly and as unmoved as though it were only 
 a cat that -was coming toward him. Still we can 
 see his dark eye flash fire, as he brandishes his 
 blade and clinches it more firmly in his hand. 
 At last the beast crouches, and, with a tremen- 
 dous spring, lights fairly upon the sword of the 
 gladiator. It has pierced his heart, and, with a 
 roar equal to the first, he falls back upon the 
 sand ; but, being a monster of his kind, and pos- 
 sessing wonderful strength, he rises in a mighty 
 death-struggle, foaming and bleeding, and rushes 
 again at his antagonist, only to receive the steel 
 to its hilt, and be freed from his pain. Shout 
 upon shout fills the amphitheater, and shakes its 
 walls, as had the roar of the lion a few moments 
 
 before. 
 
 But Spartacus was not allowed to retire yet— 
 this was a grand triumphal day, and the people 
 must see more blood ; and nothing would please 
 them more than to see that of this brave Thracian, 
 who had for so many years been unconquerable. 
 The previous day a gladiator of great strength, 
 
30 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 a Thracian also, who had laid low many a man 
 and beast in the Roman amphitheater, had been 
 brought to Capua for this occasion. Spartacus, 
 somewhat wearied, was reclining upon the ground, 
 adjusting his armor and wiping his bloody sword. 
 He had no sooner completed this, and closed his 
 helmet, than this strange gladiator is led into the 
 arena. He is altogether unknown to Spartacus, 
 who immediately arises and challenges him by 
 extending his little finger, which is the custom. 
 They are well matched indeed ; both giants, and 
 one would scarcely know which of them is the 
 better of the two. At the signal they strike. 
 Louder and louder their heavy swords ring upon 
 their shields ; their polished armor shines brightly 
 in the rays of sunlight that now and then darts 
 in under the canvas awning. Cheer upon cheer 
 arises from the wild multitude as they behold 
 some daring and dexterous movement. It is al- 
 most an even fight. Spartacus never met such 
 an antagonist before. Little did he know that 
 he with whom he fought was a Thracian ; but 
 finally growing desperate, and with the strength 
 of a Samson, he drove his ponderous blade through 
 the breast-plate, and through the ribs and heart 
 of his strange enemy, who fell dying on the sand. 
 Spartacus broke his helmet-clasps and threw his 
 visor up. The dying man looked into his face 
 
GLADIATORS. 3 1 
 
 and smiled — such a smile as had illumined his 
 face often as he sat with him who had slain him 
 under the olive-tree, and played upon the shep- 
 herd's flute the notes of peace. It was the same 
 smile still — and thus he died. 
 
 Our hero started back, and, with a loud cry of 
 grief, that almost rent the sky, he fell upon his 
 face beside his dead friend, sobbing like a child. 
 P'ast did the tears course down those rugged 
 cheeks as he remembered the green mountain- 
 side and the home of his youth, how he and his 
 companion had climbed them together. Beauti- 
 ful Thracia, that was once free, was free no more, 
 and the friend whom he had loved best he had 
 slain with his own hand. It was not until the 
 Praetor, with stern and commanding voice, or- 
 dered him away, that he arose. He begged that 
 he might take his friend's body and burn it upon 
 the funeral pile, and, dropping upon his knees, he 
 begged, but the cruel and unfeeling officer dis- 
 dained to hear his prayer, and onl}^ said, **No, 
 let it rot!" Spartacus was led to his quarters, 
 the show ended, the people disperse, and we re- 
 tire with them. 
 
 But let us look into what transpired in the 
 amphitheater after we have gone, and follow Spar- 
 tacus in his future history. The strange Thracian, 
 with the beasts and other gladiators, who had 
 
32 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 been slain in that day's slaughter, had been hauled 
 away and thrown into a large pit dug for the pur- 
 pose at some distance from the city. The lights 
 of the busy city had been put out. All was dark 
 in the house of Lentulus-. The pale moon looked 
 sadly down upon the bloody arena, and not a 
 sound was heard save the occasional roar of some 
 wild beast, as he grew furious in his den from 
 want of food. In the large training hall of the 
 amphitheater two hundred gladiators were loung- 
 ing. Their muscles were yet knotted from the 
 fierceness of the battle they had withstood the 
 previous day; and as they sat and talked of its 
 bloodshed and carnage, Spartacus, like a giant, 
 arose in their midst, and, with the eloquence of 
 his Greek forefathers, told them of his grief, and 
 how the Praetor had wronged him. He spoke of 
 the days of his innocence, when he was a shep- 
 herd boy. He warned them that some of their 
 limbs would make a dainty feast on the morrow 
 for the hungry lion that was roaring yonder in 
 his den. If they must die, why not die for 
 themselves, under the blue sky and by the bright 
 waters } The same spirit that actuated Spar- 
 tacus soon spread like a hot fever through the 
 veins of those stern men, and they girded on their 
 swords, and followed their leader and his wife, 
 who was still weeping for her brother. They 
 
GLADIATORS. 33 
 
 struck down the sentinel, but another, who was 
 near by, escaped before they could reach him, 
 and aroused the cohort of soldiers, who immedi- 
 ately rushed to the narrow door-way, through 
 which they passed, and only seventy of the two 
 hundred made their escape. They immediately 
 made their way to Mount Vesuvius, where they 
 found a safe retreat. From this point they ex- 
 tended their devastations over all the adjacent 
 country. Spartacus was determined to make 
 Italy pay for the innocent blood she had caused 
 him to shed during those twelve long years. In 
 their hiding places on the mountain they were 
 joined by multitudes of slaves, who came deter- 
 mined to die for freedom rather than to live in 
 bondage. 
 
 They had not remained there long when, one 
 morning as they looked from their lofty retreat, 
 they saw the Praetor of Capua and the cohort 
 that had prevented the escape of the remainder 
 of the gladiators. This was the same haughty 
 officer who had so cruelly refused the request 
 of Spartacus that he might burn the body of his 
 friend. At this sight the old fire was kindled in 
 his bosom, and with his trusty and brave fol- 
 lowers, only half armed as they were, he rushed 
 down the mountain and met the Praetor in open 
 battle upon the plain. Spartacus stood in the 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 front rank, and hewed a passage so near the 
 haughty and cowardly officer that the Romans 
 took flight, leaving most of their armor and a 
 great many of their soldiers upon the field. The 
 fame of this victory spread far and wide, and 
 gladiators, and pirates, and slaves flocked to them 
 from all quarters. They now threw away their 
 weapons, which were those of gladiators, as being 
 dishonorable and barbarous, and seized and wore 
 with great satisfaction the arms that had been 
 left upon the field. Instead of a miserable band 
 of rovers, the gladiators were a band of noble, 
 virtuous men, who fought for freedom ; and all 
 that Spartacus desired was to reach the Alps and 
 disperse his men to their respective homes in 
 Gaul, and Germany, and Thrace. 
 
 After this battle they encamped on a high hill, 
 covered with wild vines. While here Clodius, the 
 Praetor, was sent against them from Rome, with 
 three thousand men. He besieged them, and 
 placed a strong guard at the only place where an 
 ascent could be made. This was very narrow, 
 and it was impossible for them to descend while 
 it was guarded by soldiers. Upon the opposite 
 side of the hill was a steep precipice, which was 
 also covered with wild vines. The fugitives cut 
 off" such of the branches as they could use, and 
 made a ladder, which was sufficiently strong and 
 
GLADIATORS. 35 
 
 long enough to reach to the plain below. Down 
 this they all descended in safety, and the last 
 man on the hill let down their arms, and then 
 descended after the rest. This was all unknown 
 to the Romans, and the gladiators soon took them 
 by surprise, by attacking them suddenly in the 
 rear. They immediately fled in confusion, and 
 Spartacus took possession of the camp, and armor, 
 and spoils. At this point he was joined by all 
 the shepherds and herdsmen in the country, men 
 of great vigor, and remarkably swift of foot. Part 
 of these he clad in heavy armor, and the rest he 
 made light-armed soldiers, who should serve as 
 scouting parties. 
 
 Soon after this the General Varinus was sent 
 against the gladiators. They met his lieutenant 
 and two thousand men, and routed them. Cos- 
 sinius was then appointed assistant and chief 
 counselor of Varinus, and marched against Spar- 
 tacus with a large army, but the hero was so vig- 
 ilant that he came very near taking Cossinius 
 while he was bathing at Salense. He barely 
 escaped with his life. The gladiators seized all 
 his baggage, and pursued him to his camp, which 
 they took, and when he ventured to engage 
 them in battle he himself, and great numbers of 
 his army, were slain ; and when Varinus, the 
 General himself, appeared against them, he was 
 
36 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 beaten in several battles, and Spartacus took the 
 very horse he rode. At this time the number 
 of the brave gladiatorial army was swelled to a 
 host of seventy thousand men, and they the 
 bravest men that Italy could furnish. Still their 
 heroic leader was not puffed up, nor elated by his 
 success. He was moderate, and refrained from 
 doing any thing more than was necessary for the 
 sake of liberty. He possessed a wonderful dig- 
 nity of mind, a discernment and generalship which 
 is rarely the gift of nature. O that all had the 
 zeal of Spartacus in every good cause! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SPARTACUS AND THE JEWISH GLADIATOR. 
 
 HE vast army Spartacus had gathered 
 around him was of a far different dispo- 
 3j sition from that possessed by their brave 
 yet moderate leader. They, relying on their 
 numbers, and elated with success, would not 
 listen to his humane and merciful proposals, but 
 laid all Italy waste as far as they traversed it. 
 His entire army was made up of the bravest and 
 most daring men in the Roman Empire, but their 
 dispositions and inclinations were as diverse, and 
 their characters as different as their several faces. 
 Side by side stood the murderer and the peace- 
 able shepherd. To control such an army of un- 
 disciplined men required an extraordinary amount 
 of military genius. The constant anxiety of 
 Spartacus was that he might secure the safety 
 and freedom of liis followers, while their aspira- 
 tions were not only those of freedom, but their 
 
 37 
 
^8 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 extravagant desire was that of sacking Rome and 
 breaking her power. 
 
 At the first escape of the gladiators, and at 
 their first victories, the Senate was highly indig- 
 nant as well as ashamed of their soldiery ; but 
 now, instead of feeling shame for their supposed 
 disgrace, fear and danger afflicted them. They 
 realized that it was the most difficult and im- 
 portant war they ever had upon their hands. 
 Both the Consuls were engaged in it. One of 
 them, Gelius by name, surprised a considerable 
 body of Germans, who had rashly encamped 
 themselves at some distance from the troops of 
 Spartacus. These he overcame and cruelly put 
 to the sword. Lentulus, the other Consul, with 
 a very large army, attempted to surround the 
 gladiatorial army; but Spartacus, with his usual 
 heroism, met him in the open field, defeated his 
 lieutenants, and captured their baggage. They 
 then endeavored to reach the Alps, which was 
 the only wish and desire of Spartacus. Cas- 
 sius, the commander of Gaul on the river Po, 
 marched at the head of an army of ten thousand 
 men to meet them ; but his defeat was so signal 
 that he lost most of his army, and escaped him- 
 self with great difficulty. 
 
 The Senate was so indignant at these proceed- 
 ings that they severely reprimanded the Consuls, 
 
GLADIA TORS. 39 
 
 and deprived them of their offices. Crassus, the 
 wealthiest man in Italy, was selected and pro- 
 moted to the chief command. Numbers of the 
 nobility volunteered to serve under him as officers. 
 With a vast army he marched to Picenum, and 
 awaited the advance of Spartacus. In the mean 
 time, he sent his lieutenant, Mummius, with two 
 legions, to follow the enemy, but not to undertake 
 a battle at any hazard. Contrary to command, 
 he attacked Spartacus and was completely routed. 
 Many fell upon the field, and the remainder threw 
 away their arms and fled. So enraged was Cras- 
 sus that he reprimanded Mummius severely, and, 
 drawing out five hundred of the most cowardly 
 of his men put every tenth man to death, just as 
 the lot happened to fall to them. This made a 
 dreadful spectacle in the presence of that great 
 army, and was a lesson that they did not forget 
 when they were again taken into action. 
 
 Spartacus, after this, turned back and came to 
 the sea-coast, where he found the ships of a great 
 number of Sicilian pirates. These he paid a 
 handsome sum to take himself and two thousand 
 of his men to Sicily, where he hoped to rekindle 
 a rebellion that had lately been smothered. They, 
 however, first got possession of his money and 
 then sailed away without him. He, thus deceived, 
 retired, and intrenched himself in the extreme 
 
40 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 southern Peninsula of Italy. Here Crassus fol- 
 lowed him, and dug a trench across the isthmus, 
 a distance of thirty-seven and one-half miles. 
 This was fifteen feet wide, and the same in depth. 
 With the earth taken out of it, he made also a 
 brick wall, extending from sea to sea. Spartacus 
 only laughed at the undertaking ; but, when his 
 supplies began to fail, and the peninsula was ex- 
 hausted, he filled up a place in the trench during 
 a snow}^ and tempestuous night, and succeeded in 
 escaping with a third part of his army. Crassus 
 followed suit, and the remaining two-thirds were 
 enabled to escape also. Spartacus, indeed, showed 
 his superior generalship, and Crassus dispatched 
 a messenger to Rome, telling the Senate it would 
 be necessary to recall Lucullus^ from Thrace and 
 the great Pompey from Spain. He already feared 
 that the enemy, elated with success, would march 
 immediately upon Rome. A little dissatisfaction 
 had arisen in the camp of the gladiators, and a 
 portion of them separated and encamped on the 
 Lucanian lake. Crassus fell upon these, and 
 would have slain them in their retreat had not 
 the brave and magnanimous Spartacus, whom 
 they had so recently forsaken, appeared and res- 
 cued them. 
 
 Burning with shame and self-reproach, as well 
 as jealousy for his own reputation, Crassus deter- 
 
GLADIA TORS. 4I 
 
 mined again to attack the revolting troops ; so 
 he sent six thousand men ahead to take possession 
 of an eminence. They were discovered, however, 
 by two of the women from the gladiators' camp, 
 and would have met their fate had not Crassus 
 himself come up and attacked the entire army of 
 fugitives. This was the hottest battle of the war. 
 Both generals were equally determined, and the 
 soldiers of freedom fought and fell in their places 
 with such a calm yet desperate determination that 
 twelve thousand and three hundred died in their 
 ranks after the bravest exertions of valor, and 
 what is most remarkable, only two of this great 
 number were found wounded in the back. This 
 was the first defeat that Spartacus had sustained 
 in his victorious career. A severe stroke it was 
 to him, and sadly indeed he retired to the mount- 
 ains of Petelia. 
 
 On his way thither, the Roman Quaestor, and 
 one of Crassus's officers, followed to harass them 
 in their retreat ; but the brave fugitives, like lions 
 at bay, turned upon their pursuers, and slaugh- 
 tered them fearfully. They fled in a dastardly 
 manner, and were scarcely able to carry away the 
 QuDEstor, who was wounded. The success of 
 this battle proved the union of the gladiators. It 
 gave them fresh spirits, and they would no longer 
 defer a decisive action. With swords in their 
 
42 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 hands they met their leaders on the road, and in- 
 sisted on marching against Crassus and the whole 
 Roman army. 
 
 Far the opposite to this ambition were the feel- 
 ings of Spartacus. Standing on a high peak, with 
 a few of his faithful followers, he deplored his ex- 
 ile, and, in his generous manner, the devastations 
 that war had spread over all the land. His 
 thoughts ran back to his native land, and -the poet 
 has put these words into his mouth : 
 
 " In my green youth I looked 
 From the same frosty peak where now I stand, 
 And there beheld the glory of those lands, 
 Where peace was tinkling on the shepherd's bell, 
 And singing with the reapers." 
 
 But the end of Spartacus's career was nigh at 
 hand, for his rash and excited followers forced him 
 to engage in pitched battle the almost innumera- 
 ble hosts of their enemies. Crassus encamped 
 very near them, and one day, when he had ordered 
 his men to dig a trench, that part of the gladia- 
 torial army lying nearest to them made an attack. 
 Others soon rushed to their support, and Sparta- 
 cus, seeing the great necessity, drew out his whole 
 army. His undaunted courage was not wanting 
 in this action ; but, with the same spirit that 
 nerved him in the arena, he went forth. It was 
 now only made holy in the cause for which he 
 
GLADIA TORS. 43 
 
 fought. As he alighted in front of his army, he 
 plunged his sword into his horse. ''If I con- 
 quer," said he, " I shall have horses enough ; if I 
 am vanquished, I shall have no need of them." 
 With a shout for freedom, he precipitated himself 
 into the thickest battalions of the enemy, fol- 
 lowed by his faithful adherents ; but his unequaled 
 strength and valor soon left him alone, completely 
 surrounded by Romans. His only desire was to 
 reach Crassus. In this he did not succeed ; but 
 he killed, in terrible combat, with his own hands, 
 two centurions, who ventured to engage him. 
 Through showers of darts and heaps of slain he 
 hewed his way, determined on victory or death. 
 At last, receiving a wound in the leg, he was com- 
 pelled to fall on his knees ; yet he fought on, cov- 
 ering himself with his buckler in one hand, and 
 wielding death blows on all sides with his sword 
 in the other. When, at last, he fell, covered with 
 wounds, it was upon a heap of Romans whom he 
 had slain. 
 
 Thus ended the last combat of the noble Spar- 
 tacus. The prediction of his wife, that he would 
 "rise to something very great and formidable, the 
 result of which would be happy," was truly ful- 
 filled ; for his end was happy for a gladiator. He 
 fell fighting gallantly at the head of an army that 
 was battling for freedom. His grand example was 
 
44 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 followed by his adherents, forty thousand of whom 
 were slain. Six thousand were taken prisoners 
 and crucified alive, and five thousand who escaped 
 were encountered by Pompey, who was coming to 
 the support of Crassus. After a feeble resistance, 
 they were put to the sword. Thus ended the 
 gladiatorial war. None of this brave army, orig- 
 inally consisting of seventy thousand men, found 
 freedom, but all found liberty in death. 
 
 Now, let us step forward again about seventy 
 years, and when we have succeeded in making 
 that little stride, we find the world enjoying a 
 universal peace, the second time only in its his- 
 tory. At Rome Ave find the temple of Janus, 
 which is always open when there is war, and 
 closed in peace, now closed for the second time 
 in seven hundred years. But our present field 
 of observation, instead of being at Rome, is at 
 Jerusalem. The object of our visit is to notice 
 the life and character of a strange gladiator, who 
 has just made his appearance there. His mode 
 of fighting is so different from all others that he 
 has attracted the attention of all Judea. Still he 
 claims to be a gladiator. Perhaps we had better 
 know what the word really means, as we have 
 not defined it thus far. It is derived from the 
 Latin gladius^ meaning a sword. It is said that 
 a man who lived by the river Jordan foretold the 
 
GLAD I A TORS. 45 
 
 coming of this notable, as well as wonderful 
 swordsman, for we have just seen that a gladiator 
 is one using or fighting with a sword ; and, what 
 is strange, this foreteller of events attracted all 
 Judea to him. It was not his learning that they 
 went to listen to, for he was unlearned, yet pos- 
 sessed this strange knowledge of the future. It 
 was not his wealth they went to see, for he was 
 poor. His dress was a sheep-skin and a girdle, 
 his house a cave, and his food locusts and wild 
 honey. One day, while he was talking to a large 
 multitude by the side of the river, he pointed out 
 this great gladiator, who happened to come down 
 to the water through a by-path that led to the 
 river's bank. He, like the wife of Spartacus, said 
 he would rise to something great and formidable, 
 the result of which would not only be happy for 
 himself, but for all others. 
 
 Perhaps, after we have observed this great 
 man's life for a while, we will know better where 
 and why he calls himself a gladiator. It is said 
 that he went into the wilderness, and was attacked 
 by the evil spirits from the lower world, and that 
 after a dreadful combat, which lasted forty days, 
 he alone signally routed Lucifer, their chief and 
 leader, who ventured to engage him in single 
 combat. Lucifer was no ordinary antagonist. He 
 had once been an archangel in the world of the 
 
46 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Celestials, but envy and greed for power induced 
 him to raise a rebellion against the Eternal One, 
 who sat upon the throne. His army, which con- 
 sisted of a third part of the Immortals, was over- 
 thrown, and expelled from their happy abode, 
 and, as a special punishment, he himself was cast 
 down, as lightning, from heaven. 
 
 It is said of this gladiator, that when only a 
 child his mother took him into the great temple, 
 and there an old Jew came and took him in his 
 arms and blessed him, and said to his mother, 
 "Behold this child is set for the fall and rising 
 again of many in Israel, and for a sign that shall 
 be spoken against, (yea, a sword shall pierce 
 through thine own soul also,) that the thoughts 
 of many may be revealed."* 
 
 While addressing a multitude of people on a 
 certain occasion this stranger proclaimed himself, 
 that "he came not to send peace on the earth, 
 but a sword."t By this very announcement he 
 laid claim to the title we have ascribed to him. 
 His mode of fighting, however, was different from 
 that of Spartacus. Instead of maiming men, he 
 made the lame to walk ; instead of killing them, 
 he restored them to life. Instead of impoverish- 
 ing the land in which he lived he enriched it ; in- 
 stead of raising a rebellion, and endeavoring to 
 
 *Luke ii, 34, 35. t Matt, x, 34. 
 
GLAD I A TORS. 47 
 
 destroy the Roman power, he acknowledged it, 
 and bade them to render unto Caesar the things 
 that are Caesar's. Instead of exalting himself he 
 exalted others. He was the friend of the widow 
 and the orphan. He wept with them that weep, 
 and rejoiced with them that rejoice. Another 
 notable fact is that he was a king, and the first 
 king who ever became a gladiator. His sword 
 was " the sword of the Spirit, which was the 
 Word of God."* That sword far surpassed in 
 keenness any that had ever been used before ; 
 " for the Word of God is quick and powerful, and 
 sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even 
 to the dividing asunder of the joints and mar- 
 row, and is a discerner of the thoughts and in- 
 tents of the heart."! This king was also an in- 
 structor of gladiators, for he was known to drill 
 twelve chosen men for three years in a school 
 of gladiatorial combat. The king was not merely 
 a gladiator who conquered sometimes, and was 
 beaten at other times, but he was a conqueror in 
 the literal sense. By his word, which was his 
 only sword, he subdued all things. In the streets 
 of the Holy City, and surrounding towns, we find 
 him curing the sick, restoring the sight, healing 
 the lame, and casting out evil spirits, all by 
 his word. The elements obey him equally well. 
 
 * Phil, vi, 17. t Hcb. iv, 12. 
 
48 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 At his command, on the Sea of Gahlee the winds 
 and waves stood still. We find him in the little 
 town of Bethany, kneeling, with two weeping 
 women, by the side of their brother's sepulcher ; 
 then, by his word, he commands the mafti who 
 had been dead four days to come forth, and he is 
 obeyed. We wonder at him restoring sight by 
 mere word of mouth ; but could not he who ages 
 before had said, " Let there be light," say the 
 same again with the same effect upon the dark- 
 ened eyeball of one of his creatures t 
 
 He said his " kingdom was not of this world ;" 
 and we are told that, while he was rich, yet he, 
 for our sakes, became poor. His character was 
 so different from that of the princes of the neigh- 
 boring countries ; so differefit from that of the 
 Roman Emperors, that men could not help but 
 claim him indeed for their king. 
 
 His principal gladiatorial combats were against 
 the sins of the world, and especially with Lucifer, 
 who first attacked him. The second engagement 
 that we hear of his having with this fallen arch- 
 angel is in a garden near Jerusalem. There he 
 fought all night, and so great was the exertion 
 that the sweat ran off his body in great drops of 
 blood. Before this last engagement, he told the 
 gladiators whom he was training that "In the 
 world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good 
 
G LABIA TORS. 49 
 
 cheer: I have overcome the world."* Finally, 
 when he had about completed his conquest, he 
 was taken out and crucified ; but, in his death, he 
 was far bolder and more heroic than Spartacus — 
 as much more so as his life and undertaking had 
 been more successful than that of the Thracian 
 we admired so much. Instead of wreaking his 
 vengeance upon his enemies, whom he could have 
 destroyed by a word, he only said : " Father, for- 
 give them, they know not what they do ;" but in 
 this last combat he bruised the head of Lucifer 
 and overcame him forever. Truly, the prophecy 
 of the old Jew in the temple, that he would rise 
 to something great and formidable, the result of 
 which would be happy for himself and others, was 
 fulfilled ; for, by his death, we received pardon for 
 all our sins. 
 
 He had only one more combat, and that was 
 with death. He fought with him three days, and 
 at last overcame him, and broke the king's seal 
 that imprisoned him, and escaped from a body of 
 Roman soldiers who guarded him, and then he 
 ascended to his Father to intercede for us. 
 
 Now, my dear reader, this gladiator, who was 
 none other than God himself, is as willing to save 
 us as he was those old Jews who crucified him. 
 He is as ready to illumine our hearts as he was to 
 
 * John xvi, 33. 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 give light to the eyes of the blind man. Their 
 sins are ours ; their hell is ours ; their heaven is 
 ours. Which shall we choose for our deliverer, 
 Jesus or Spartacus, Christ or Lucifer t 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 GLADIATORIAL SHOWS OF NERO. 
 
 E will only take a passing glance at the 
 development of our subject until we come 
 to the reign of that monster of cruelty, 
 Nero. Gladiatorial shows were fast becoming the 
 only popular amusement, and some of the Em- 
 perors found it necessary to put them under re- 
 strictions, while others, who were careless as to the 
 public good, and deaf to humanity and mercy, in- 
 creased them, of course. As the number of these 
 combats increased, the number of combatants in- 
 creased also. Julius Caesar, in his ^dileship, en- 
 tertained the people with an exhibition of three 
 hundred and twenty couples. After this, we 
 have the comparatively pacific reign of Augustus. 
 This great monarch, who was moderate in his 
 general policy, decreed that only two shows of 
 gladiators a year should be presented, in each of 
 which there should not be above sixty couples of 
 combatants. 
 
 51 
 
52 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Tiberius provided, by an order of the Senate, 
 that no one should have the privilege of exhibit- 
 ing such a show, unless he was worth four hun- 
 dred thousand sesterces, equal to about fifteen 
 thousand, two hundred dollars. 
 
 In the reign of the weak Claudius, the populace 
 had reached the height, almost, of corruption. 
 The census showed the citizenship of the city to 
 number six millions and a half All former de- 
 crees, at this time, were annulled, and private 
 persons were allowed to exhibit these brutal com- 
 bats at pleasure. Some even carried this san- 
 guinary satisfaction so far as to have them at their 
 private feasts. A real mania for gladiatorial shows 
 had seized the public mind. From slaves and 
 freedmen, the inhuman sport at length spread tc 
 people of rank and nobility ; so that during the 
 reign of Augustus it was found necessary to issue 
 an edict forbidding any of the Senatorial order 
 from becoming gladiators. The Emperor soon 
 after placed the same restrictions upon the knights. 
 
 In the fifty-fourth year of the Christian era, we 
 are at Rome. Nero, the heir to the throne, is in- 
 vested with the imperial purple. At first he prom- 
 ises a just and peaceful reign, and the people 
 look forward to it with the most pleasing antici- 
 pations ; but sad indeed is their disappointment. 
 Never has the cup of iniquity been filled in the 
 
GLADIATORS. 53 
 
 }ife of any man if not in that of Nero. His name, 
 ere he has reigned three years, has become the 
 synonym for cruelty. In him, the sum of all that 
 is wicked, profligate, and sanguinary under the 
 sun is completed. The mention of his name 
 is the terror of Rome. As master of the world, 
 the lives of his subjects are at his disposal. The 
 noblest of the patrician order were the unfor- 
 tunate victims of his jealousy, as well as the 
 meanest barbarian. We would not dare, my 
 reader, to visit the worst of his shows. By him 
 all laws relating to gladiators were abolished, and 
 the only law in Rome, whether in respect to this 
 or any other institution, was only the result of 
 his caprice or passion. On one occasion, Nero 
 brought forty Senators and sixty knights into the 
 arena as gladiators. His infamy did not stop 
 here, but he obliged women of quality and nobility 
 to fight as gladiators in the public arena. 
 
 Let us, however, visit the amphitheater. Myr- 
 iads of human beings are crowded into that enor- 
 mous building. At the extreme end sits Nero in 
 state. At the sound of the trumpet, two chariots 
 or cars, drawn by horses, are driven in. In each 
 are two men — one a driver, and the other a gladi- 
 ator. They are driven side by side, and, at the 
 signal, the combat begins. The cars are kept in 
 motion, each charioteer showing his dexterity in 
 
5 4 THE LA S 7' GLAD I A TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 affording every advantage of movement and posi- 
 tion for his swordsman. It is the place of the 
 combatant to protect his driver, as well as himself, 
 from the blows of his antagonist. This is done 
 mostly by covering him with his shield, while he 
 wards off the blows that are directed at his own 
 person by wary movements of his sword. Finally, 
 a tremendous shout of acclamation goes up, as 
 one of the combatants receives the steel and falls 
 backward from his car, faint and bleeding, upon 
 the sand. His antagonist springs to the ground, 
 lifts his sword for the fatal blow. The wounded 
 man pleads for his life from the heartless people 
 and Emperor in vain, and is dispatched amid the 
 demonstrations of delight that come from the 
 savage Nero. 
 
 Next appears a body of one hundred gladiators, 
 who divide themselves into two equal parties, 
 and form a line of battle. At the signal, this 
 miniature army presents us all the fearful and 
 bloody scenes of a regular engagement. They 
 charge, and each selects his antagonist. It is not 
 until many have been killed, and every man on 
 the weakest side wounded, that the carnage is 
 brought to a close. The arena is then cleared ; the 
 wounded are carried to their quarters, and attend- 
 ants with long hooks, which they stick into the 
 dead bodies of the gladiators, drag them to the 
 
GLADIATORS. 55 
 
 Stripping room, where their armor is taken off, 
 and they thrown into a heap at one side to be 
 hauled away for interment. 
 
 Our attention is attracted by the entrance of a 
 man, unarmed except with a short sword. He 
 takes his position in the center of the arena. 
 His muscular development is as fine as that of 
 any who ever fought in that amphitheater. In 
 stature tall, with broad shoulders, his limbs ap- 
 pear to have been cast in some colossal mold. 
 His long, yellow hair falls in masses on his 
 shoulders. His face is that of a warrior. There 
 is nothing in it that gives trace of the effeminacy 
 of civilization. His calm self-possession has a 
 degree of dignity about it that indicates a formi- 
 dable and ruling spirit. He is a Briton, and was 
 captured by the Roman army, which had just 
 overcome that land of the North. He was one 
 of their leaders, and had always been used to 
 savage warfare, and encounters with the beasts 
 of the forest. He had been in training for some 
 time, and promised to prove one of the best 
 gladiators of Rome. In fact the whole city was 
 already excited about him. 
 
 The creak of iron gratings, and the terrible roar 
 of a tiger, as he bounds from his den, startles all 
 of us. It is days since he tasted food, and, raving 
 with hunger, he looks around for a moment, then, 
 
56 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 with a desperation such as arises only from want 
 of food, he rushes at the Briton, whom he has 
 just discovered. First he crouches like a huge 
 cat, but is so enormous as to terrify the audience. 
 With all the ferocity that hunger has added to his 
 savage nature, he makes a spring directly at the 
 gladiator; but with wonderful agility he steps to 
 one side, and strikes a blow with his short sword 
 that sends it to the heart of the beast. With a 
 groan of agony the monster falls back dead upon 
 the sand. 
 
 The shouts of applause had scarce died away, 
 and the body of the tiger been removed, when the 
 creaking of another iron door, and the appearance 
 of another monster, attracts the attention of all. 
 It is a lion so remarkable in size as to have been 
 the terror of all the gladiators for some time. 
 Long had he been reserved for some powerful 
 antagonist. The pangs of hunger were as severe 
 in his case as in that of the tiger, but his nature 
 was much more like that of a man under similar 
 circumstances. His manner was more deliber- 
 ate, and at the same time more terrible. With a 
 quick, yet measured pace, he took a general 
 survey of the arena, when, suddenly turning, he 
 uttered such a roar as would have shaken the 
 Numidian forests for many a mile. In the pres- 
 ence of all this the gladiator stood firm ; his 
 
GLADIATORS. 57 
 
 nerves failed him not, but with a look that caused 
 the fiery eye of the beast to drop, he gazed on 
 his shaggy antagonist. The lion was twice the 
 size of the tiger, and the Briton looked as but a 
 mouthful for his powerful jaws. 
 
 The terrible bound came at last, and with the 
 same dexterous movement as' before, the gladiator 
 avoided his enemy, and struck with the same pre- 
 cision; but, instead of reaching the heart, the 
 sword had struck a rib, and fell from his hand. 
 Time and again did the lion bound at him, en- 
 raged by the wound he had received. Our brave 
 Briton, however, was not yet to be overcome, and 
 at length regaining his sword, plunged it into the 
 heart of the beast, who, after several struggles, 
 fell dead at the door of his den. Exhausted and 
 nervous, the Briton rested his weary limbs upon 
 the sand. Cheer upon cheer went up from the 
 delighted audience, and the more delighted Em- 
 peror clapped his hands with wild excitement. 
 
 The effect of that terrible combat was plainly 
 observable on the Briton. His whole frame shook 
 from the exertion he had just put forth. But the 
 cruel tyrant, Nero, knew no mercy. The attend- 
 ants led forth a gladiator, clad in full armor, with 
 a sword in his hand, and, at the same time, threw 
 a net and trident to the Briton. An expression 
 of sadness and disappointment came over his 
 
58 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 face — a third engagement had not been expected. 
 He seemed to lose all hope, but slowly rose and 
 took the net and trident. His antagonist was an 
 African, as strong and well built as himself, and 
 equally active. We are forced to express our in- 
 dignation at the Emperor for his heartlessness. 
 O, Nero ! have you forgotten all humanity, all 
 justice, all fairness, in matching a fresh antago- 
 nist against a man who has sustained two such 
 dreadful encounters as these t In the first place 
 he would have been an equal match for our brave 
 Briton; but now you send a gladiator who is 
 fresh and well armed to contend with one who is 
 weary and unarmed. The Briton advances, meets 
 his enemy, casts his net, with which he hoped 
 to entangle him, but it missed. The Briton then 
 took to flight, in order to re-adjust his net for a 
 second cast. He ran slowly ; the African, who 
 was fresh, gained on him at every step. At last 
 the Briton turned to throw again, when the Afric- 
 an plunged his sword into his side. The Briton 
 threw up his hand and sank back upon the 
 ground. The victor stood over him with uplifted 
 sword, waiting for the tumultuous applause to 
 cease in order that he might receive the signal 
 of life or death from the spectators. Life was 
 the answer given by their hands, and the attend- 
 ants bore the wounded gladiator to his quarters. 
 
GLAD/A TORS. 
 
 59 
 
 We are told by the unknown author of that ad- 
 mirable work, " Helena's Household," that a child, 
 the son of Labio, a Roman General, who com- 
 manded a legion in Britain, and was present at the 
 show, induced his father to care for the wants of 
 the wourded man, and when he was able to be re- 
 moved, took him to his own villa. When entirely 
 well, he became the attendant of the young son, 
 whose name was Marcus, to whom he was so at- 
 tached that he could not bear to be separated 
 from him. His native name was Galdus. He 
 soon learned the Roman tongue, and proved a 
 faithful servant in his benefactor's household. 
 Marcus talked to him about the love of our Sav- 
 ior, and tried to point him to Jesus. At the 
 burning of Rome, of which we shall speak in our 
 next chapter, Labio's house was consumed, and 
 his son would have perished, notwithstanding all 
 his efforts to rescue him, had not Galdus rushed 
 into the flames, climbed the long columns of the 
 porticoes and descended again with his precious 
 burden safe to the ground. He himself had been 
 badly scorched, and it was several weeks before 
 he recovered. When he had become entirely 
 well Labio set him at liberty, but he refused to 
 leave his master. 
 
 In the course of a few years Labio again re- 
 turned to Britain, to take command of a legion. 
 
60 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 This time he took his wife, and Marcus, and 
 Galdus. Soon after his arrival Marcus and his 
 mother both died. Galdus was inconsolable. 
 Labio could not bear to remain where he had 
 lost his wife and child, but forsook Britain for 
 the war in Judea. Galdus being free, remained 
 behind, and made his way through the Northern 
 tribes, not stopping until he reached those far up 
 in Caledonia, where the Romans had not yet 
 penetrated. There by his intelligence, and the 
 superior advantages he had enjoyed at Rome, 
 added to his hatred for the Romans, and love for 
 his native land, he became a powerful chieftain. 
 To him all the tribes gathered. He was their 
 judge and their general. The natives called him 
 in their own tongue, "Gald-cachach" — Gald, the 
 fighter of battles. His fame spread to the Ro- 
 mans, and he was called Galgacus by them. He 
 was successful at first against Agricola, their 
 general, but, despite all his -efforts, was finally 
 vanquished. The fatal battle took place at the 
 foot of the Grampian hills. 
 
 Our brave Caledonian monarch addressed his 
 hardy troops before the battle v/ith all his native 
 eloquence, and to-day the speech of Galgacus 
 stands as one of the grandest monuments of true 
 patriotic sentiment, as well as eloquence, that we 
 have on record. He reminded them that only 
 
GLADIATORS. 6l 
 
 seas and rocks remained behind them, and here 
 they must conquer or perish. It was a vain hope 
 to disarm by submission the pride of the Ro- 
 mans, who termed spoil and slaughter govern- 
 ment, and devastation peace. The brigands, under 
 a woman, defeated their legions, and leveled their 
 camps; and, had it not been for their relaxing 
 into sloth, and their intoxication with success, 
 they might forever have thrown off the yoke of 
 servitude. Their example, he observed, ought to 
 animate the Caledonians, who might justly esteem 
 themselves the noblest of Britons. 
 
 "The temerity of our enemies," exclaimed he, 
 "has thrown them into our hands. A feeble 
 band, they gaze with dismay on an unknown re- 
 gion, on our gloomy hills and wintery sky. One 
 victory completes their destruction ; their forts are 
 without garrisons, their cities without concord, 
 and, while the people are averse to obedience, 
 the magistrates rule with injustice. Whether 
 you shall swell the number of the oppressed, or 
 avenge their wrongs, it is this field must deter- 
 mine. Prepare, therefore, for battle, and, as you 
 advance, look back to the renown of your an- 
 cestors, and look forward to the independence 
 of your posterity." 
 
 The battle was terrible. Galgacus led his men 
 nobly on, but they were undisciplined and un- 
 
62 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 governable. They had really become frantic, and 
 rushed like dumb beasts to the slaughter. Only 
 three hundred and forty Romans were slain, while 
 Galgacus lost ten thousand. The vanquished 
 chieftain retired from the scene of action, for- 
 sook his tribes, and wandered to the South of 
 Britain. He began to ponder the words of his 
 young instructor in his heart. He found no peace 
 in the world. He had lost all his spirit of re- 
 venge, all his thirst for power, and his rude, but 
 generous nature, had been melted into love — love 
 for Marcus, his former idol. He now sought 
 peace in the sayings he had taught him, as he 
 frequently visited his grave. 
 
 Labio, in the midst of the Judean war, had 
 not forgotten the words spoken to him by his 
 Christian son. After many a sleepless night, and 
 many an hour of prayer, he had found that " peace 
 that passeth all understanding." He was deter- 
 mined to war no more, but to take up the work 
 of his Master, and bear his cross, even in those 
 hours of persecution, while Christians were be- 
 ing burned at the stake by scores. 
 
 With this intent he resigned his command, 
 sold his property, and distributed it to the poor, 
 and sailed for Britain. Never was he more sur- 
 prised than when he found Galdus at the grave 
 of his dear son Marcus. Galdus related his 
 
GLADIA TORS. 63 
 
 experience, and prayed for light and consolation, 
 and desired Labio to point him to Christ. The 
 old Briton melted into tears as he heard the old, 
 old story from the lips of one whom he thus 
 loved. " Gald, the fighter of battles^ was no more/' 
 but Gald, the preacher of the Gospel of peace, in 
 company with Labio, proclaimed the love of a 
 Savior to those Northern tribes, and told them 
 of a Chieftain who would not only deliver them 
 from their bondage, but would save them from 
 their sins. Death came to both after they had 
 " run well with patience the race of conflict that 
 was set before them." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BURNING OF THE AMPHITHEATER. 
 
 OME, with her seven millions, dwelling 
 upon seven hills, had become the mis- 
 tress of the world, of which Nero was 
 master — and truly a hard master he proved to be. 
 When his own mother, and his wife, became the 
 victims of his tyranny, and, what was worse, were 
 murdered at his command, what could the citi- 
 zen hope for or expect ? Was any thing too 
 fiendish to be undertaken by such a man ? No. 
 And, as if he thought the people were in doubt 
 on the subject, he took the opportunity to con- 
 vince them of it to the utmost. 
 
 One night, in midsummer, Rome was startled 
 by the fierce, loud cry of " fire ! fire !" This was 
 a common cry indeed in this great city ; so com- 
 mon that it was scarcely ever heeded, except by 
 those in the immediate vicinity of the danger. 
 But this night the cry grew louder and louder, 
 64 
 
GLADIATORS. 65 
 
 until it rang from street to street and from hill to 
 hill. The entire south-western part of the city 
 was ablaze. The fire had first broken out at the 
 great circus, and was now fast wending its way 
 up the Aventine and Palatine hills, and from 
 thence it swept on to the east. The roar of the 
 flames could be distinctly heard at the most distant 
 quarter. The air was full of flaming cinders, car- 
 ried by the west wind that came up briskly from 
 the sea ; and, as they fell, new flames burst up with 
 all the terror of the first. The great drought had 
 made every thing wooden highly combustible, 
 and the height of the buildings offered every ad- 
 vantage to the impending conflagration. The 
 panic was so general that no efforts were made to 
 check the fire. All that was thought of was per- 
 sonal safety. The crowded streets were one mass 
 of living beings. All were wild with excitement. 
 The shrieks of children who had lost their parents 
 were heart-rending. "Father" and '^ mother" 
 were the cries that went up on every side. 
 Crushed*and trampled under foot, the poor, pitia- 
 ble innocents found no one to rescue them. All 
 night it raged, and the sufferers cried, " O, that it 
 were day !" and, when day returned, their cry was 
 only, '' O, that it were night !" 
 
 During the first night, and the succeeding day, 
 the fire had swept up the Palatine hill, and, at 
 
 5 
 
66 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 evening, it rolled up against the amphitheater. 
 Its dry timbers soon were ablaze, and the devourer 
 scaled its walls, caught the awnings and spars, 
 and then tossed a sheet of fire to the sky that il- 
 luminated the already brilliant city. With the 
 same speed with which the fire ascended the outer 
 wall it ran along the rows of benches, down, down, 
 until it reached the arena below. The horror of 
 the scene is indescribable. It seemed as if all 
 Rome besides were in darkness, although on fire, 
 while this tremendous structure burned. And, 
 when the flames reached the vaults below and the 
 out-buildings connected with the amphitheater, 
 "then came a sound that gave greater horror to 
 all who heard it ; for it was something more ter- 
 rible than any thing that had yet been heard. It 
 was a sound of agojiy — the cry of living creatures 
 left encaged to meet their fate — the wild beasts 
 of the amphitheater. There was something al- 
 most human in that sharp, despairing wail of fear. 
 The deep roar of the lion sounded above all other 
 cries ; but it was no longer the lordly ro*ar of his 
 majestic wrath ; it was no longer the voice of 
 the haughty king of animals. Terror destroyed 
 all its menacing tones, and the approach of fire 
 made his stout heart as craven as that of the 
 timid hare. The roar of the lion sounded like a 
 shriek, as it rose up and was borne on the blast 
 
GLADIA TORS. 67 
 
 to the ears of men — a shriek of despair, a cry to 
 heaven for pity on that life which the Creator had 
 formed. With that Hon's roar was blended the 
 howl of the tiger and the yell of the hyena ; but 
 all fierceness was mitigated in that hour of fright 
 and dismay, and in the uproar of those shrieks 
 there was something which made men's hearts 
 quake, and caused them for a moment to turn 
 aside from their own griefs and shudder at the 
 agony of beasts. 
 
 " Here, where the flames raced and chased each 
 other over the lofty arched side, and from which 
 man had fled, and the only life that remained was 
 heard and not seen, one form of life suddenly be- 
 came visible to those who found occasion to watch 
 this place, in which men saw that touch" of nature 
 which makes all men kin; but here nature as- 
 serted her power in the heart of a lioness. How 
 she escaped from her cell no one could say. Per- 
 haps the heat had scorched the wood so that she 
 broke it away ; perhaps she had torn away the 
 side in her fury ; perhaps the side had burned 
 away, and she had burst through the flames — do- 
 ing this, not for herself, but for that offspring of 
 hers which she carried in her mouth, holding it 
 aloft, and, in her mighty maternal love, willing to 
 devote herself to all danger for the sake of her 
 young. She seemed to come up suddenly from 
 
68 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 out of the midst of flame and smoke till she 
 reached the farthest extremity of the edifice, and 
 then she stood holding her cub, now regarding 
 the approaching flames, and now looking around 
 every-where for some further chance of escape. 
 
 " There stood, about thirty feet away, a kind of 
 portico, which formed the front of a basilica, and 
 this was the only building that was near. To 
 this the lioness directed her gaze, and often turned 
 to look upon the flames, and then returned again 
 to inspect the portico. Its side stood nearest, 
 and the sloping roof was the only place that af- 
 forded a foot-hold. Between these two places lay 
 a depth of seventy feet, and, at the bottom, the 
 hard stone pavement. Nearer and nearer came 
 the flames, and the agony of a mother's heart was 
 seen in the beast as, with low, deep moans, she 
 saw the fiery death that threatened. Already the 
 flames seemed to encircle her, and the smoke- 
 cloud drove down, hiding her at times from view. 
 At length, one cloud, which had enveloped her 
 for a longer period than usual, rolled away ; the 
 lioness seemed to hesitate no longer. Starting 
 back to secure space for a run, she rushed forward 
 and made a spring straight toward the portico. 
 
 " Perhaps, if the lioness had been alone and fresh 
 in her strength, she might easily have accom- 
 plished the leap and secured, at least, temporary 
 
GLAD I A TORS. 69 
 
 safety. But she was wearied with former efforts, 
 and the fire had already scorched her. Besides 
 this, she held her cub in her mouth, and the ad- 
 ditional weight bore her down. As it was, her 
 forepaw struck the edge of the sloping roof of the 
 portico. She clutched it madly with her sharp 
 claws, and made violent efforts to drag herself up. 
 She tried to catch at some foot-hold with her hind 
 legs, but there was nothing. The tremendous 
 strain of such a position could not long be en- 
 dured. Gradually her efforts relaxed. At last, as 
 if she felt herself falling, she made a final effort. 
 Mustering all her strength, she seemed to throw 
 herself upward, but in vain. She sank back, her 
 limbs lost strength, her claws slipped from the 
 place where they had held. The next instant, a 
 dark form fell, and mother and offspring lay a life- 
 less mass on the pavement."* 
 
 This scene, though heart-rending, was followed 
 by one that might have been more so, were it not 
 for the prowess exhibited by its hero. Appar- 
 ently, all the wild beasts had perished in their 
 cells, as well as some of the gladiators ; but, for- 
 tunately for the sake of humanity, most of the 
 latter had made their escape. But, while we look 
 on and behold the fire as sole monarch, wielding 
 
 * An extract from the chapter on the Burning of Ronie^ in 
 "Helena's Household." 
 
yo THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 its scepter of flame, a herd of wild beasts, who 
 were confined in the most distant apartment, rush 
 frantically through the red-hot coals, through the 
 roaring flames, and the crash of falling timbers ; 
 scorched, and panting for one breath of cool air, 
 they madly dash into the red-hot arena, and there, 
 encircled by flame on every side, they have come 
 only to endure a slower death than they would 
 have endured in their dens. The roar and crackle 
 of those dry timbers is only silenced in the mad 
 cry of agony that arises from many a parched throat 
 and blistered mouth in the arena. Doubly thank- 
 ful are we that no human being is thus tortured ; 
 but, while our eye glances around the blazing el- 
 lipse, we are surprised to find that, at the extreme 
 end, where the Emperor's seat is raised above 
 those surrounding it, the fire has not yet extended, 
 the probable reason being that a narrow stone stair- 
 way has checked the flames temporarily. But, 
 as we strain our eyes through the light, we dis- 
 cover a form of something living. It. certainly 
 moved ; and, as we look again, we are forced to 
 cry to heaven for mercy, not for ourselves, but for 
 that gladiator, who stands there like a statue 
 awaiting his death more grandly than he ever could 
 have found it in combat. He is an Ethiopian, 
 tall, handsomely built, with a marked intelligence 
 in his countenance. He is altogether naked, and, 
 
GLADIATORS. 7 1 
 
 as he surveys the scene of destruction, his coun- 
 tenance is as calm as if he beheld all from a point 
 of safety. Yet, as he looks down upon the wild 
 beasts, rushing to and fro, tearing the red-hot 
 bars, snatching up fire-brands in their jaws, and 
 then slaughtering each other in order to cool their 
 parched tongues in the boiling blood, a look of 
 pity came over that manly countenance. There 
 was no concern for himself Then, with a grace 
 that an emperor could not have commanded, he 
 seated himself in the imperial chair — an emperor 
 indeed, nobler, braver, grander than ever reigned 
 in Rome. His kingdom was before him, but it 
 was soon to pass away. His subjects were soon 
 to become his enemies. He already felt the 
 scorching of the flames, but he flinched not. The 
 rich, golden, and bedizened awning that shaded 
 his throne smoked in the intense heat, and even 
 while we watch, the imperial canopy takes fire, and 
 the emperor of the amphitheater is crowned with 
 a wreath of flame. Only one short moan falls upon 
 our ears and all is over. The hero who so calmly 
 sat enthroned upon his funeral pile had departed 
 to a reward that awaits such a beautiful death. 
 Had Nero been present, and had he possessed the 
 feelings of a man, he might have been taught how 
 to rule, and how to die, by one of his most despised 
 slaves. 
 
72 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 While the city burned, and millions were made 
 homeless, Nero went into the wildest ecstasies 
 over the grandeur of the scene. In order that the 
 picture might be as imposing as possible, the people 
 were not permitted to oppose the fury of the con- 
 flagration, but were compelled to remain inactive 
 spectators of their own ruin. Six days and nights 
 the fire raged, and Mr. Gibbon tells us that " the 
 monuments of Grecian art and Roman virtue, the 
 trophies of the Punic and Gallic wars, the most 
 holy temples, and the most splendid palaces were 
 involved in one common destruction. Of the 
 fourteen regions, or quarters, into which Rome 
 was divided, four only subsisted entire, three were 
 leveled with the ground, and the remaining seven, 
 which had experienced the fury of the flames, 
 displayed a melancholy prospect of ruin and deso- 
 lation." Amidst all this, Nero sat in the theater, 
 gathered his few weak flatterers around him, and 
 sang to the flames, which were plainly visible from 
 the stage, with his lyre, " The Siege of Troy." 
 
 Five out of the seven millions of inhabitants 
 were thus rendered homeless ; but Nero, fearing 
 the ruin that might come upon his own head from 
 an angry people, opened his gardens, and had 
 temporary buildings erected for their accommoda- 
 tion, while the city could be rebuilt. Nero truly 
 had good reason to fear, for the report was already 
 
GLADIA TORS, 73 
 
 afloat that he had set the city on fire; and true 
 enough it was, for, says the great historian above 
 quoted, "every crime might be imputed to the 
 assassin of his wife and mother; nor could the 
 prince who prostituted his person and dignity on 
 the theater be deemed incapable of the most ex- 
 travagant folly." 
 
 Nero's own house was at last consumed. His 
 liberality in the alleviation of suffering would not 
 have saved him from the certain vengeance of the 
 homeless had he -not resorted to a tyranny more 
 dreadful than the first. He laid the charge of 
 the conflagration to the poor, harmless Christians ; 
 and, when he had arrested a host of them, had 
 ruffians, who were hired, come forward and swear 
 that they themselves were Christians, and that all 
 of the accused, with themselves, were guilty as in- 
 cendiaries of the city. The poor victims were 
 taken, without a hearing, to the imperial gardens, 
 sewed up in tarred sacks, tied to stakes, and 
 burned to death, while Nero, mounted upon a 
 golden chariot, exhibited his skill as a charioteer. 
 
 ^.:^S- 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COLISEUM. 
 
 ERO died a violent death, partly from a 
 wound inflicted by his own hand, when 
 his Empire had been taken from him, 
 and partly by the assistance of an attendant, who 
 was well aware that he could serve the world 
 best by thus serving his master. Vespasian, the 
 commander of the Eastern armies, was raised to 
 the dignity of emperor after three generals, who 
 had been invested with the royal purple, were 
 murdered. The command of the army in Judea 
 was left to his son Titus, who advanced upon 
 Jerusalem, Obstinate indeed was the resistance 
 made by that peculiar people. Famine and pes- 
 tilence swept them away by the thousand ; yet it 
 was not the fault of the generous Titus, who only 
 demanded their capitulation, and promised them 
 the restoration of their former peace. The Chris- 
 tians who beheld the impending destruction re- 
 membered the prophecies of our Lord, recorded 
 74 
 
GLADIA TORS. 75 
 
 in Matt. chap, xxiv, and fled to the mountains. 
 In that terrible siege the number who perished 
 is estimated at eleven hundred thousand. The 
 triumphal entry of Titus into Rome was very 
 imposing. Following him the golden vessels 
 taken from the holy temple were borne upon 
 the shoulders of captives, and the train of pris- 
 oners who followed numbered thousands upon 
 thousands; but the victor, with all this, was a 
 pure-minded and unpretending man. 
 
 The moderate and able Vespasian reigned with 
 such economy and justice that the contrast be- 
 tween his administration and that of Nero was 
 extremely salutary. In his reign the great Fla- 
 vian Amphitheater was commenced. This is most 
 generally known as the Coliseum, deriving its 
 name, it is thought, from the colossal statue of 
 Nero, erected in its immediate vicinity. It is 
 more probable, however, that it derives its name 
 from its own imposing appearance. ' Vespasian, 
 the builder of this great monument, did not live 
 to see it completed ; still there has been erected 
 a far grander monument to his memory in the 
 hearts of his countrymen, one of whom said: 
 "He was one in whom power made no alteration, 
 except in giving him the opportunity of doing 
 good equal to his inclinations."* Titus employed 
 
 * riiny. 
 
j6 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 twelve thousand Jews upon the Coliseum, and at 
 the end of two years and nine months completed 
 this magnificent edifice. Its dimensions were 
 enormous. It was an ellipse, whose longer diam- 
 eter was six hundred and fifteen feet, and the 
 shorter five hundred and ten feet. The longer 
 diameter of the arena was about two hundred and 
 eighty-one feet, and the shorter one hundred and 
 seventy-six, leaving a circuit for the seats and 
 galleries of about one hundred and fifty-seven 
 feet in breadth. The external circumference was 
 about seventeen hundred and seventy feet, cover- 
 ing an area of more than five acres and a half, 
 and could not have been built on a rectangular 
 piece of ground of less than seven acres.* The 
 entire height of the building was one hundred 
 and sixty-four feet. The outside of the building, 
 which was four stories high, was of marble, and 
 inside, the eighty rows of seats were of white 
 marble also. These were covered with cushions, 
 and eighty-seven thousand spectators could easily 
 be accommodated, in a comfortable and luxurious 
 manner. In fact no expense was spared to in- 
 sure luxury ; the air was refreshed by playing 
 fountains, and little pipes or tubes carried the 
 richest perfume to every row of seats. The 
 arena was strewed with fine white sand, and 
 
 * See Des,cfodetz. 
 
\ G LABIA TORS. jy 
 
 was so wonderfully constructed that by machinery 
 arranged beneath it could be almost instantane- 
 ously changed into a tropical garden, and from 
 that to a rocky and barren desert. Then, with 
 the same rapidity of movement, a volume of water 
 could be let in, and the sandy plain transformed 
 into an extensive lake, covered with armed ves- 
 sels, and replenished with the monsters of the 
 deep. All was covered by an awning of various 
 colors, called the Velum. This was stretched 
 from wall to wall, for the protection of the spec- 
 tators, whenever sun or rain made it necessary. 
 It is estimated that the expense of the Coliseum 
 would have built a capital city. 
 
 In the first year of the reign of the beloved 
 Titus, A. D. 79, that dreadful eruption of Mount 
 Vesuvius took place, in which Pompeii and Her- 
 culaneum were destroyed. Multitudes of people 
 fled from Campania to Rome, seeking safety. 
 Multitudes besides perished, either from the con- 
 suming lava or the noxious and suffocating vapor. 
 The humane Emperor proceeded in person to the 
 scene of misery, and did all in his power to alle- 
 viate suffering, but was soon recalled to his capi- 
 tal by the news that a fire had broken out and 
 raged three days, rendering many of his subjects 
 homeless. And what was worse, immediately 
 following these calamities, one more disastrous 
 
yS THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 still came, in the form of a fearful malady among 
 the people, by which ten thousand died daily for 
 a considerable period. Whether this was the 
 effect of the noxious vapor, or of the crowded 
 state of the city on account of the numbers of 
 fugitives that found refuge there, is uncertain. 
 After repairing the losses of the fire, mostly from 
 his own treasury, he sought to divert the minds 
 of his distracted people by the dedication of the 
 Coliseum. This he immediately completed, and 
 entertained them with the most splendid spec- 
 tacles they had ever beheld in the arena. These 
 entertainments lasted through one hundred con- 
 secutive days, and it is estimated that nine thou- 
 sand wild beasts perished at the hands of gladi- 
 ators during that time. 
 
 The time of the dedication was published 
 throughout the whole Empire, and an historian 
 tells us that " people from every part of the world 
 crowded to Rome to be present at these games." 
 On the appointed day we find the Coliseum filled 
 to its utmost capacity. The generous Titus is 
 seated in his elegant pavilion. Eighty thousand 
 anxious faces wait expectant for the opening 
 scene, which is to be considerably different from 
 the usual order. The arena presents a strange 
 sight indeed. Instead of the level plain is a wild 
 and ^rocky prospect, with dens and caves around 
 
G LABIA TORS. 79 
 
 and above which trees had been temporarily 
 planted. A number of gladiators, dressed as 
 hunters, with lance, and sword, and bow, appear. 
 No sooner have they entered than as many wild 
 beasts of different kinds, lions, tigers, panthers, 
 and hyenas, rush out of the dens and attack the 
 hunters. A lively combat ensues. The people 
 become excited, and forget the distresses they 
 have so lately endured. As beast after beast is 
 slain the enthusiasm of the populace grows wilder 
 and wilder, and many a shout of gratitude- ascends 
 to the praise of their magnanimous sovereign* 
 
 Amidst all their delight the hunting is brought 
 to a close, and a general surprise follows. The 
 arena is immediately flooded, and the waters teem 
 with aquatic animals of every description. These 
 are made to contend- by first arousing their anger, 
 and then driving them together in a general con- 
 fusion. Besides this, men in ships are engaged 
 in capturing the shark — all of which is received 
 with an almost ceaseless uproar of applause. No 
 sooner is the water cleared of these animals than 
 armed galleys are launched, and sail side by side. 
 Here we have the representation of a naval 
 engagement between the Corinthians and Cor- 
 cyrians. 
 
 Beautiful, indeed, was the life of Titus. His 
 efforts were directed wholly to promote the hap- 
 
80 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 piness of his people. So zealous was he that one 
 evening, while reviewing the events of the day, 
 and finding that no good deed had been performed, 
 he exclaimed, " O ! my friends, I have lost a day!" 
 At another time, when reminded by his courtiers 
 that he had promised more to the solicitations of 
 a supplicant than he could readily perform, he 
 answered that " no man ought to depart from the 
 presence of his prince with a dejected counte- 
 nance." So jealous was he of the comfort and 
 welfare of the people that he well deserved the 
 title — " The delight of mankind " — which they 
 conferred upon him. 
 
 Toward the close of these splendid spectacles 
 the mind of Titus was oppressed by some un- 
 known anxiety. On the last day of the games 
 his dejection was particularly noticeable. He 
 was even seen to burst into tears. He acknowl- 
 edged that he had received warnings of his im- 
 pending fate. In a few days more he died of a 
 fever, amidst the lamentations of his idolizing 
 subjects. Upon his death-bed he declared that, 
 in the whole course of his life, he recollected but 
 one action of which he repented. What this was 
 he did not live long enough to reveal. Strange 
 it was, that after a short reign of only two years 
 and three months, the benefactor of this great 
 family, that numbered millions^ should be taken. 
 
GLADIA TORS. g I 
 
 Vespasian and Titus were the only Roman em- 
 perors, up to tliis date, who died natural deaths. 
 The truth of the whole matter is explained in the 
 fact that virtue could not live in Rome. 
 6 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SPECTACLES. 
 
 
 LADLY would we linger at the death-bed 
 of Titus, but we must hasten on. We 
 
 have consumed so much of our time in 
 the last two centuries in visiting public spectacles 
 that we must be content to pass rapidly over the 
 two or three centuries that yet remain. Domi- 
 tian, the brother of the mild Titus, was his suc- 
 cessor. He despised the gentle and generous 
 spirit of his brother, and excelled Nero as a mon- 
 ster of cruelty by the refinement of his barbari- 
 ties. Nero was only a heartless wretch. Domi- 
 tian was literally a cruel one ; and, when he 
 found no other cruelty to practice, he spent his 
 leisure in catching flies, at which he was exceed- 
 ingly expert. He went so far as to declare him- 
 self God, and the innumerable victims that were 
 sacrificed before his statues and his altars became 
 
 no inconsiderable tax on the Roman people. The 
 82 
 
GLADIA TORS. 83 
 
 newly dedicated Coliseum he disgraced by exhib- 
 iting gladiatorial combats of women in the night 
 time. To be wealthy or noble, with him, was 
 death, and above all, to be virtuous brought death 
 with the severest tortures. He once assembled 
 the Senate to consider in what utensil it was best 
 that a certain fish should be dressed. At another 
 time he invited the Senate to a feast, and, when 
 they had arrived at the palace, they were, by his 
 order, cond..cted to a gloomy subterraneous hall, 
 lighted by dim tapers, hung with black, and pro- 
 vided with coffins, on one of which each guest 
 saw his own name inscribed. Soldiers, with 
 drawn swords, came in upon them, and threatened 
 their lives. Esteeming this a good joke, he let 
 them depart. 
 
 Trajan became the virtuous successor to the 
 purple after a short interval of sixteen months, 
 during which time the empire had been well gov- 
 erned by the venerable Nerva. So virtuous was 
 Trajan that more than two hundred and fifty 
 years after his death, the Senate, in pouring out 
 the customary acclamations on the accession of a 
 new emperor, wished that he might surpass the 
 felicity of Augustus and the virtue of Trajan. 
 This brave and generous prince, under whom the 
 empire was extended to its farthest limits, rivaled, 
 and even excelled Titus in the exhibition of pub- 
 
84 THE LAST GLAD/A TORIA L SHO W. 
 
 lie spectacles. He continued a solemnity, similar 
 to that exhibited by Titus, through a period of 
 one hundred and twenty-three days, in which 
 gladiatorial fights were presented, as well as com- 
 bats v/ith wild beasts, and naval engagements. 
 The entire number of gladiators brought out dur- 
 ing this protracted entertainment reached ten 
 thousand. 
 
 We will again advance about three-quarters of 
 a century, and we arrive at the reign of the cruel 
 and dissolute Commodus. Cruelty, which at first 
 was dictated by others, became the ruling passion 
 of his soul. He received the empire at the hands 
 of his noble and beloved father when only nineteen 
 years old. Commodus was exceedingly graceful 
 in person, and a popular orator. A few extracts 
 from Mr. Gibbon will represent his character, and 
 the nature of his spectacles, better than we can 
 give them. " Commodus, from his earliest infancy, 
 discovered an aversion to whatever was rational or 
 liberal, and a fond attachment to the amusements 
 of the populace, the sports of the circus and am- 
 phitheater, the combats of gladiators, and the 
 hunting of wild beasts. The masters in every 
 branch of learning, whom Marcus provided for his 
 son, were heard with inattention and disgust, while 
 the Moors and Parthians, who taught him to dart 
 the javelin and to shoot the bow, found a disciple 
 
■ GLADIATORS. 8$ 
 
 who delighted in his application and soon equaled 
 the most skillful of his instructors in the steadi- 
 ness of his eye and the dexterity of his hand." 
 
 Hercules was the model whom he copied, and 
 he even styled himself the Roman Hercules. The 
 club and lion's hide were placed by the side of the 
 throne as the ensigns of sovereignty. ''Elated 
 with these praises, which gradually extinguished 
 the innate sense of shame, Commodus resolved 
 to exhibit, before the eyes of the Roman people, 
 those exercises which till then he had decently 
 confined within the walls of his palace and to the 
 presence of a few favorites. On the appointed 
 day the various motives of flattery, fear, and curi- 
 osity attracted to the amphitheater an immense 
 multitude of spectators, and some degree of ap- 
 plause was deservedly bestowed upon the uncom- 
 mon skill of the imperial performer. Whether he 
 aimed at the head or heart of the animal, the 
 wound was alike certain and mortal. With ar- 
 rows, whose point was shaped into the form of a 
 crescent, Commodus often intercepted the rapid 
 career and cut asunder the long, bony neck of the 
 ostrich. A panther was let loose, and the archer 
 waited until he had leaped upon a trembling male- 
 factor. In the same instant the shaft flew, the 
 beast dropped, and the man remained unliurt. 
 The dons of the amphitheater disgorged at once a 
 
S6 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 hundred lions ; a hundred darts from the unerring 
 hand of Commodus laid them dead as they ran 
 racing round the arena. Neither the huge bulk 
 of the elephant, nor the scaly hide of the rhinoce- 
 ros could defend them from his stroke." 
 
 We are told that in these exhibitions he de- 
 stroyed some of the most timid and harmless ani- 
 mals, among which was a giraffe, the first one 
 that was ever brought to Rome. In every case, 
 the strictest precautions were taken to protect 
 the person of the Roman Hercules from the des- 
 perate spring of any animal who might possibly 
 disregard the dignity of the Emperor, The shame 
 of the Emperor was, however, completed when he 
 entered the lists as a gladiator. His people bore 
 the shame which he did not feel himself, even the 
 meanest subject blushed for him. He assumed 
 the dress of a combatant in complete armor, and 
 always engaged those who were unarmed, except 
 with net and trident, as was Galdus in his combat 
 with the African. The Emperor fought in this 
 character seven hundred and thirty-five times. 
 His combats in public, however, rarely proved 
 fatal to his antagonist, although he was always 
 victorious. But, when he exercised his skill in 
 the school of the gladiators, or his own palace, 
 his wretched antagonists were frequently honored 
 with a mortal wound. He now disdained the 
 
GLADIA TORS. 8/ 
 
 title of Hercules and chose that of Paulus, a cel- 
 ebrated gladiator. The infamous tyrant had each 
 of his glorious achievements carefully recorded 
 among the public acts of the empire. Commodus 
 was choked to death by the hand of an assassin. 
 
 Nearly a century later, when the arms of the 
 Emperor Probus had overcome all the enemies of 
 the State, he returned to the capital, and a mag- 
 nificent triumph was granted to him. In the 
 midst of this, the heroes of the Coliseum, aroused 
 by the same spirit that actuated Spartacus, at- 
 tempted a similar career, which, however nobly 
 and courageously it was begun, proved less for- 
 midable. The historian says : " We can not, on 
 this occasion, forget the desperate courage of 
 about fourscore gladiators, reserved, with near 
 six hundred others, for the inhuman sports of the 
 amphitheater. Disdaining to shed their blood for 
 the amusement of the populace, they killed their 
 keepers, broke the place of their confinement, and 
 filled the streets of Rome with blood and confu- 
 sion. After an obstinate resistance, they were 
 overpowered and cut in pieces by the regular 
 forces ; but they obtained, at last, an honorable 
 death, and the satisfaction of a just revenge." 
 
 Two years after this notable event (A. D. 283), 
 Rome was again burdened with a second Domi- 
 tian in the person of Carinus. The only event 
 
88 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 that has been worthy of record during his infa- 
 mous reign was the grandeur with which he cele- 
 brated the Roman games of the theater, circus, 
 and amphitheater. We are obliged to confess 
 that never in the history of Rome was so much 
 art and expense lavished for the gratification of 
 the vulgar tastes of the people. By the order of 
 the Emperor, a great number of large trees were 
 torn up by the roots, and transplanted to the 
 midst of the amphitheater. Says Mr. Gibbon : 
 " The spacious and shady forest was immediately 
 filled with a thousand ostriches, a thousand stags, 
 a thousand fallow deer, and a thousand wild boars ; 
 and all this variety of game was abandoned to 
 the riotous impetuosity of the multitude. The 
 tragedy of the succeeding day consisted in the 
 massacre of a hundred lions, an equal number of 
 lionesses, two hundred leopards, and three hun- 
 dred bears. 
 
 " The collection prepared by the younger Gor- 
 dian for his triumph, and which his successor ex- 
 hibited in the secular games, was less remarkable 
 by the number than by the singularity of the 
 animals. Twenty zebras displayed their elegant 
 forms and variegated beauty to the eyes of the 
 Roman people. Ten elks, and as many camel- 
 opards, the loftiest and most harmless creatures 
 that wander over the plains of Sarmatia and 
 
GLADIA TORS. 89 
 
 Ethiopia, were contrasted with thirty African hy- 
 enas and ten Indian tigers, the most implacable 
 savages of the torrid zone. The unoffending 
 strength with which nature has endowed the 
 greater quadrupeds, was admired in the rhinoce- 
 ros, the hippopotamus of the Nile, and a majestic 
 troop of thirty-two elephants ; while the populace 
 gazed with stupid wonder on the splendid show, 
 the naturalist might indeed observe the figure 
 and properties of so many different species, trans- 
 ported from every part of the ancient world into 
 the amphitheater of Rome." " In the decoration 
 of these scenes, the Roman emperors displayed 
 their wealth and liberality ; and we read, on vari- 
 ous occasions, that the whole furniture of the am- 
 phitheater consisted either of silver, or of gold, or 
 of amber. The poet who described the games of 
 Carinus, in the character of a shepherd attracted 
 to the capital by the fame of their magnificence, 
 affirms that the nets designed as a defense against 
 the wild beasts were of gold wire ; that the por- 
 ticoes were gilded, and that the belt, or circle, 
 which divided the several ranks of spectators 
 from each other, was studded with a precious 
 mosaic of beautiful stones." 
 
 But, in the midst of this glittering magnifi- 
 cence, and in the midst of the flattering acclama- 
 tions of people and courtiers, the empire of Cari- 
 
90 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 nus was taken from him, and, in that hour, his 
 brother, and joint emperor, died nine hundred 
 miles distant from Rome, and the imperial scepter 
 passed into the hand of a stranger. In the year 
 3 T 2, Constantine the Great became emperor ; and 
 strange indeed were the circumstances under 
 which he espoused the cause and made the re- 
 ligion of Christ the religion of the empire. It is 
 recorded by Eusebius that, while Constantine was 
 in the field against Maxentius, with whom he was 
 contending for the sovereignty, a flaming cross, 
 far brighter than the noonday sun, appeared in 
 the sky inscribed with the command, written in 
 Greek: "By this, conquer." It was seen by the 
 whole army, and it is said, by the Emperor him- 
 self, that the following night the Savior himself 
 appeared to him, displayed to him an ensign with 
 a cross upon it, instructed him to construct one 
 similar to it, and assured him that by it he should 
 conquer. Constantine was obedient to his vision, 
 and won the victory of the succeeding day. 
 
 In the year 325 A. D., the Christian Emperor 
 issued an edict prohibiting the combats of gladi- 
 ators in the East. At least, he forbade those 
 who were condemned to die for their crimes to 
 be employed. He ordered that they should 
 rather be sent to the mines in lieu thereof. Dur- 
 ing the several persecutions preceding this date, 
 
THE BOY MARTYR OF THE ARENA. 
 
GLADIATORS, 9 1 
 
 great numbers of the innocent and inoffensive 
 Christians had been compelled to fight in the 
 arena for the amusement of their persecutors. 
 They did it, of course, with great reluctance ; but 
 they had to choose one of two alternatives — either 
 to deny their faith and prostrate themselves at 
 the altar of some heathen deity, or fight. 
 
 The humane edict of Constantine was soon an- 
 nulled by his successor, Julian the Apostate, and 
 for half a century longer Christianity was obliged 
 to contend with this inhuman institution of a 
 heathen and barbarous age. Many are the tales 
 of bloodshed and horror that might be told by 
 one of the stones in that old Coliseum could it 
 only speak, and the few pictures that we have 
 drawn of Roman glory and pleasure are but faint 
 indeed. Certainly, the most successful of all glad- 
 iators was Christ. In him we find most to ad- 
 mire, most to love, most to imitate ; and, since we 
 have beheld the wicked and sanguinary combats 
 of men, the contrast between them and the life 
 and character of Jesus must, if viewed carefully, 
 and especially prayerfully, have a beneficial effect 
 upon our minds. In the death of Jesus we find 
 a heroism, and, what is a far stronger test of real 
 greatness, love, such as was never exhibited in 
 the amphitheater. Our visit to Italy has truly 
 been a profitable one, although it has not always 
 
92 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 been as pleasant as we would have desired. Leav- 
 ing our visit to the last gladitorial show to a future 
 chapter, we will, in the mean time, reside at Rome, 
 and note the effect of Christianity upon the mind 
 and manners of the proud Romans. We will also 
 endeavor to trace the life and conflicts of its great- 
 est champions and its boldest gladiators, who took 
 up the sword of the Gladiator of Judea, and with 
 it cut away superstition, paganism, and the long 
 catalogue of vices and disorders that were bound 
 up in it. 
 
Part IL 
 MONK S: 
 
 jf alters of llje Clntrt^ aub Jatljtrs of tl^t ^z5zxt. 
 
MONKS: 
 
 OR 
 
 Jaf^ers of lljc Cljurtlj mxia ^nthtxB of tlje ^t$txt 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAUL AND ANTHONY. 
 
 ITH our new subject we begin the con- 
 sideration of a new mode of warfare — a 
 style of combat equally, and probably 
 more effectual than that of the sword — a warfare 
 carried on by nobler, grander, and braver spirits 
 than ever donned an armor or hurled a lance. 
 The enemies they had to encounter were no less 
 than the world, the flesh, and the devil. We do 
 not believe that " contrasts are always beautiful," 
 but certainly they are sometimes profitable. We 
 have been wearied with bloodshed and cruelty, 
 and from contact with a world so corrupt, so 
 wicked, that were it not for the self-sacrificing 
 
 95 
 
96 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 spirit of such men as are named for the subject 
 of this chapter, Christianity, Hke a grain of mus- 
 tard-seed cast upon the ground, might have been 
 trodden under foot and crushed. 
 
 Let us, then, flee to the desert, and behold how- 
 men who have Hved nobly can die grandly. It is 
 hardly necessary for us to speak any further on 
 the general state of corruption that existed in 
 society at the time of which we write. Nothing 
 could have been more loathsome than its utter 
 rottenness. No right, no justice, no virtue ex- 
 isted. Man had lost all his self-respect, and 
 woman all her decency. Falsehood was preferred 
 to truth, cruelty to humanity, villainy to equity. 
 Honesty gave rise to suspicion, and virtue was a 
 crime. And glad indeed are we that words have 
 not been found in our own chaste mother tongue 
 to express the depth of vice, and the horrible 
 crime into which this people had fallen. The 
 poor, unoffending Christians, were charged with 
 being the cause of every public calamity. They 
 were slandered, as worshipers of the head of an 
 ass, which they were said to set up in the midst 
 of their assemblies ; and so ready were corrupt 
 minds to degrade others to a level with them- 
 selves, that this soon became the current belief 
 with the masses of the heathen. 
 
 It was in this state of affairs that Christians 
 
MONIvS. 97 
 
 found that they must either tear themselves away 
 from the corrupt world or perish with it. It was 
 not persecution that they feared, for the life they 
 chose was almost a constant death. Yet they 
 were willing to brave the climate of the Egyptian 
 desert, with its scorching sun and wetting dews, 
 only that they might enjoy a life of contemplation 
 and constant communion with God. Here, amidst 
 prayer and labor, amidst want and self-denial, 
 which not unfrequently degenerated into self-tort- 
 ure, these lords of the sands sought that sancti- 
 fication which they deemed jt impossible to attain 
 in the midst of a wicked and degenerate world. 
 
 Monks, like the rest of humanity, differed con- 
 siderably, and had their different names and man- 
 ner of life. There were hermits, who lived in a 
 cell or cave, away from contact even with other 
 monks. Anachorets, or anchorites, as we prefer 
 to call them, were hermits who were not always 
 confined to their own society, but sometimes lived 
 a short distance from other anchorites. When 
 many of these habitations were placed together 
 in the same wilderness, at some distance from 
 each other, the community thus formed was called 
 a laura. Monasteries were buildings in which a 
 number of monks dwelt together, under the con^ 
 trol of one of their number, who was vested with 
 supreme authority, and was called an abbot. This 
 7 
 
98 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 great system of monasticism had properly two 
 founders — Paul, the hermit, and Anthony, who is 
 styled the patriarch of the monks. Paul was a 
 native of the Lower Thebais, in Egypt — itself the 
 birthplace, but especially the dwelling-place of 
 monks. When fifteen years old he lost his par- 
 ents, who left him a considerable fortune, and at 
 that early age had provided him with an excellent 
 education in the Greek and Egyptian schools. 
 In the year 250 Decius persecuted the Christians 
 with the tortures of the rack and lash, and, deem- 
 ing the stake too quick a mode of torture, had 
 honey rubbed all over the body of the victim, who 
 was then stretched out on his back, with his hands 
 tied behind him, on the hot sands, at mid-day, 
 that flies and wasps, which are quite intolerable 
 in hot countries, might torment and gall him with 
 their stings until life was extinct. During these 
 times of danger Paul kept himself concealed in 
 the house of a friend, but was warned that_^ 
 brother-in-law intended to betray him, in order 
 that he might obtain his estate, and fled to the 
 deserts. There he chose a cave in a rock, which 
 was said to have been the retreat of money-coiners 
 in the days of Queen Cleopatra. By his cave was 
 a clear spring of water, and a palm-tree which 
 furnished him leaves for clothing, and fruit for 
 food. Paul, who was only twenty-two years old, 
 
MONKS. 99 
 
 had no idea of remaining in his solitude, but in- 
 tended to return as soon as the persecutions 
 should end. But he enjoyed his retirement and 
 heavenly contemplation to such an extent that 
 he determined to spend his life in the desert. 
 Many strange things are told of him. It is 
 said he lived on the fruit of his tree until he was 
 forty-three years of age ; at which time it ceased 
 to bear, and from that time to his death, like 
 Elias, he was miraculously fed by a raven, who 
 brought him bread every day. 
 
 Anthony, the great patriarch of the monks, was 
 born in the year 251 A. D., at Coma, a village of 
 Upper Egypt, on the borders of Arcadia. When 
 twenty years old his parents died, and left him 
 vast possessions. He was, also, placed in charge 
 of a younger sister. He had never had the 
 advantages of an education, except that he had 
 learned to read Egyptian. His parents, who 
 were strictly pious, had always kept him at home, 
 so that he grew up untainted by bad example or 
 wicked conversation. So affected was he at read- 
 ing the words of the Savior addressed to the rich 
 young man, " Go sell that thou hast and give it 
 to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in 
 heaven," (Matt, xix, 21,) that he sold all his prop- 
 erty, placed his sister in the charge of kind and 
 Christian teachers, and retired into the desert 
 
100 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 adjoining his native village. His food was only 
 bread, with a little salt, and he drank nothing 
 but water. He never ate before sunset, and 
 sometimes only once in two or four days. His 
 bed was sometimes a rush mat, but more fre- 
 quently the bare floor. Dissatisfied with his 
 proximity to the village, he went farther into the 
 desert, and took up his abode in an old sepulcher. 
 To this place a faithful friend brought him bread. 
 Here it is said he endured the severest tempta- 
 tions, and only freed himself from them by cross- 
 ing the Eastern branch of the Nile, and taking 
 up his abode in the ruins of an old castle, on the 
 top of the mountains. In this he lived twenty 
 years, very rarely seeing any man, except one, 
 who brought him bread every six months. The 
 fame of his sanctity attracted great numbers of 
 disciples, and many heathens visited him. To 
 satisfy the numerous requests of his friends he 
 forsook his home on the mountain, and founded 
 the first monastery at Phaium. This at first con- 
 sisted of scattered cells, similar to a laura, but 
 afterward, as numbers flocked to it, a substantial 
 edifice was erected. At his death the followers 
 he had gathered around him numbered fifteen 
 thousand. Although busily engaged at labor in 
 his new undertaking he limited his diet to six 
 ounces of bread per day. This was soaked in 
 
MONKS. lOl 
 
 water, with a little salt. Sometimes he added a 
 few dates and a little oil. His dress consisted 
 of an imder-garment of sackcloth, over which he 
 wore a white coat of sheep-skin and a girdle. 
 
 In the year 311, during the persecutions by 
 Maximinus, Anthony journeyed from the desert, 
 and appeared in Alexandria. Hoping himself to 
 receive the martyr's crown, he visited the martyrs 
 in the mines and prisons, encouraged them before 
 the tribunal, and accompanied them to the" places 
 of pubUc execution. He constantly wore his 
 white sheep-skin coat, and fearlessly appeared in 
 the presence of the governor and judges, yet no 
 one laid hands on the saint of the desert. At 
 the close of the persecutions he returned to his 
 monastery to remain for a short time only, after 
 which he proceeded to the Nile to found another 
 monastery. Having accomplished this, he and a 
 beloved disciple, Macarius by name, took up their 
 abode in a remote cell, on a mountain of difficult 
 access. 
 
 In the year 339 he saw a vision of mules kick- 
 ing down the altar. This he interpreted to be a 
 persecution caused by the Arian heretics, which 
 is said to have come to pass in exact accordance 
 with his prophecy. When ninety years old, while 
 reflecting upon his past life, he began to rejoice 
 in what he had done, and, falling into temptation, 
 
1 02 THE LAST GLADIA TORI A L SHO W. 
 
 began to praise himself, as the founder of two 
 great monasteries, and of a life so holy, which he 
 had induced so many to enter upon. That night 
 he was informed in a dream of the dwelling-place 
 of Paul, the hermit, of whom he had never heard. 
 He was also commanded to go into the desert ni 
 search of this holy servant of God. 
 
 Anthony, after a weary search of two days and 
 a night, discovered the saint's abode from a light 
 that was in it. Having long begged admittance 
 at the door of the cell, Paul opened it to him, 
 and received him in his embrace, calling him by 
 name, which had been made known to him in a 
 dream. Paul then inquired whether idolatry still 
 reigned in the world, and, while they were con- 
 versing together, a raven dropped a loaf of bread 
 before them, upon which Paul said : " Our good 
 God has sent us a dinner. In this manner have 
 I received half a loaf every day these sixty years 
 past. Now you are come to see me, Christ has 
 doubled his provision for his servants." After 
 spending the night in prayer, Paul told his guest 
 that he was about to die, and said, "Go fetch 
 the cloak given you by Athanasius, Bishop of 
 Alexandria, in which I desire you to wrap my 
 body." Anthony hastened to the monastery and 
 complied with Paul's request. Strange indeed is 
 the account of his death and burial; and we 
 
MONKS. 103 
 
 relate it merely for what it is worth. It is said :* 
 "Anthony having taken the cloak, returned with 
 it in all haste, fearing lest the holy hermit might 
 be dead, as it happened. While on his road he 
 saw his happy soul carried up to heaven, attended 
 by choirs of angels, prophets, and apostles. Al- 
 though he rejoiced on Paul's account, he could 
 not help lamenting on his own for having lost a 
 treasure so lately discovered. As soon as sorrow 
 would permit he arose, pursued his journey, and 
 came to the cave. Going in he found the body 
 kneeling, and the hands stretched out. Full of 
 joy, and supposing him yet alive, he knelt down 
 to pray with him, but, by his silence, soon per- 
 ceived he was dead. Having paid his last re- 
 spects to the corpse, he carried it out of the cave. 
 While he stood perplexed how to dig a grave two 
 lions came up quietly, and, as it were, moaning, 
 and, tearing up the ground, made a hole large 
 enough for the reception of a human body." Paul 
 died in the one hundred and thirteenth year of 
 his age. Anthony highly prized the palm-leaf 
 garment of the hermit, and wore it on public 
 occasions. 
 
 Constantine the Great wrote a letter to An- 
 thony, recommending himself to his prayers, and 
 desiring an answer. Observing the surprise of 
 
 * Butler's Lives of the Saints. 
 
104 ^-^^^ LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 his disciples, he said : " Do not wonder that the 
 Emperor writes to us, on^ man to another — rather 
 admire that God should have written to us, and 
 that he has spoken to us by his Son." He was 
 finally persuaded to answer the letter, in which 
 he advised the Emperor to lay aside worldliness, 
 and remember the judgment to come. 
 
 Anthony, finding that his cell was becoming 
 too public, and visits were so fi-equent that his 
 devotions were continually interrupted, deter- 
 mined to seek a new and more remote dwelling- 
 place. With this purpose he journeyed up the 
 Nile, with the intention of going far into South- 
 ern Egypt, but, while sitting down to rest and 
 watch a boat that was passing, he changed his 
 mind. He then journeyed eastward into the 
 desert three days, until he came to Mount Cal- 
 zim. Here he fixed his last residence, near the 
 Red Sea. In the year 351, when a hundred years 
 old, he showed himself, for the second and last 
 time, in the metropolis of Egypt, to bear witness 
 for the orthodox faith of his friend Athanasius. 
 His emaciated, ghost-like form, with his hairy 
 dress, made a powerful impression on the hea- 
 thens. He preached boldly in the streets of that 
 wicked and turbulent city. All people ran to see 
 him, and rejoiced to hear him. The heathens 
 themselves, as they flocked to him, said : " We 
 
MONKS. 105 
 
 desire to see the man of God." His preaching 
 was attended with wonderful success. The he- 
 retical Christians were confounded and put to 
 shame by his earnest, homely logic, and the pa- 
 gans found a rebuke for their voluptuous effem- 
 inacy in the grand self-denial, self-sacrifice, miser- 
 able magnificence of the man of the desert, who 
 could crucify the passions and temptations of his 
 weak human nature, and could grasp after the 
 Divine and the invisible. In a few days he con- 
 verted more heathen and heretics than had other- 
 wise been gained in a whole year. Some even 
 go so far as to say that he wrought many mira- 
 cles, and it is affirmed that when the Bishop 
 Athanasius attended him as far as the gate of 
 the city, as he was about to depart, he cast out an 
 evil spirit from a girl. He declined an invitation 
 of the Emperor Constantine to visit Constan- 
 tinople, and when asked by the Governor of 
 Egypt to stay longer in the city, he replied: "As 
 a fish out of water, so a monk out of his soli- 
 tude dies." While at Alexandria he met with 
 the famous blind Bishop Didymus, whom he told 
 that he ought not to regret much the loss of his 
 eyes, for they were common to ants and flies, on 
 account of that which he possessed in the light 
 which dwelt within him. 
 
 He despised human science, and said : " He 
 
I06 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 who has a sound mind has no need of learning." 
 The Bible alone was his text-book, and this he 
 studied frequently while at work. He spent con- 
 siderable time in making rush mats, and while 
 engaged at this he found it quite convenient to 
 read. When "certain philosophers asked him how 
 he could spend his time in solitude, without the 
 pleasure of reading books, he replied that Nature 
 was his great book, and amply supplied the want 
 of others. At another time, when philosophers 
 came to him with the intention of making sport 
 of his ignorance, he asked them, with great sim- 
 plicity, which was first, reason or learning, and 
 which had produced the other.? They replied, 
 '' Reason or good sense." " This, then," said An- 
 thony, " suffices." 
 
 Our venerable saint, on his return from Alex- 
 andria, visited his monasteries, when he was be- 
 sought by his monks, with tears in their eyes, to 
 remain and die with them ; but they could not 
 prevail upon him. 
 
 He hastened back to his cell on the mountain 
 by the sea, where he lived nearly a year longer 
 with two of his faithful companions, who had 
 ministered to his wants for fifteen years. When 
 he was taken sick he told them not to embalm 
 his body, as was the custom of some, but to 
 bury him in the ground, like the patriarchs. He 
 
310 A' KS. 167 
 
 especially warned them to keep secret the place 
 of his burial, lest, according to the superstitions 
 so fast becoming prevalent, his bones might be 
 preserved as relics. Athanasius reports his last 
 words as follows : " Do not let them carry my 
 body into Egypt, lest they store it in their 
 houses. One of my reasons for coming to this 
 mountain was to hinder this. You know I have 
 reproved those who have done this, and charged 
 them to cease from the custom. Bury, then, my 
 body in the earth, in obedience to my word, so 
 that no one may know the place except your- 
 selves. In the resurrection of the dead it will be 
 restored to me, incorruptible, by the Savior. Dis- 
 tribute my garments as follows: Let Athanasius, 
 the bishop, have the one sheep-skin and the gar- 
 ment I sleep on, which he gave me new, and 
 which has grown old with me. Let Serapion, 
 the bishop, have the other sheep-skin. As to the 
 hair-skirt, keep it for yourselves. And now, my 
 children, farewell. Anthony is going, and is no 
 longer with you." 
 
 He died at the age of one hundred and five 
 years, unburdened by old age. His sight was 
 unimpaired, and his teeth were only worn, not 
 one of them having dropped out. Rarely, in- 
 deed, do we find in history a will and energy 
 equal to his. Many men possess abilities that 
 
I08 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 accomplish, probably, two or three wonders in a 
 life-time, but we have not found one that has 
 equaled a life of almost ninety years of self-de- 
 nial, and patience, and suffering, such as that en- 
 dured by Anthony. May we profit by his virtues, 
 and guard against his mistakes ! 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 AMBROSE, ARCHBISHOP OF MILAN, 
 
 HE title of the second division of our little 
 work is " Fathers of the Church and Fa- 
 thers of the Desert." We have trans- 
 posed the order of this sentence, and given you 
 the fathers of the desert first. Probably we can 
 obtain a slight idea, at least, of the grand lives 
 lived by the early fathers, whether in the cell of 
 a monk or in the Episcopal chair, in no better 
 way than by taking glances at the acts of firm de- 
 termination performed, and the innumerable self- 
 sacrifices endured by them. This Archbishop, 
 by his life, furnishes a picture of extraordinary 
 interest to the reader of history who looks along 
 the ages and beholds its heroes, as a spectator 
 gazing upon an extended gallery of paintings per- 
 ceives them to possess merit and beauty in greater 
 or less degree. 
 
 Ambrose was the son of noble parents, who 
 
 109 
 
I lO rilE LAST GLAD I A TO RIAL SHOW. 
 
 were Romans. He was born in Gaul about the 
 year 340. His father, at that time, was Praetorian 
 Prefect of Gaul, and resided at Aries, the capital. 
 When Ambrose was an infant in the cradle, it is 
 said that a swarm of bees came into the house 
 and settled upon his mouth. This his father in- 
 terpreted as a portent of future greatness. 
 
 After his father's death, his mother took him 
 to Rome, where he received a thorough law educa- 
 tion. He, for some time, pleaded at the bar, and 
 his success, together with his family influence, 
 obtained for him the position of Consular Prefect 
 in Northern Italy. When Anicius Probus, the 
 Prefect, gave him his commission, and sent him 
 to his province, he addressed these remarkably 
 prophetic words to him : " Go, then, and act not 
 as a judge, but as a bishop." Ambrose made his 
 residence in the royal city of Milan. There, in 
 the exercise of government, he manifested a de- 
 gree of wisdom and justice that obtained for him 
 universal esteem. When he was thirty-four years 
 old, the Archbishop of Milan died ; the Church 
 was disordered within itself by the heresy of the 
 Arians (whose belief concerning our Savior was 
 almost as blasphemous as that of modern Unita- 
 rians, and whose influence was more severely felt), 
 and it was found very difficult to make a new elec- 
 tion. In the midst of the turbulent assembly. 
 
MONKS. 1 1 1 
 
 Ambrose arose, and, by an eloquent speech, rec- 
 ommended a peaceable election. At the close 
 of his address, a child cried out: "Ambrose is 
 bishop!" The voice of the innocent was re- 
 garded as a miraculous suggestion, and he was 
 at once elected unanimously by acclamation. The 
 civil magistrate used every means in his power to 
 dissuade the people from such a step ; and, when 
 appointed, he resorted to several expedients for 
 the purpose of obtaining an acceptance of his res- 
 ignation. The Emperor himself, who well knew 
 the abilities of Ambrose, insisted on his accept- 
 ance; the young bishop, who had not yet been 
 baptized, was obliged to submit. He was then 
 baptized, and, in eight days afterward, entered 
 upon the duties of his Episcopal office. His 
 mother and sister were both women of the strict- 
 est piety. They had brought him up, not only in 
 the way of strict uprightness and virtue, but had 
 educated him to a limited extent in the orthodox 
 faith. Although unprepared for the service of the 
 Church, by the education he had received as a 
 lawyer, yet, as Mr. Gibbon says, "The active 
 force of his genius soon qualified him to exercise, 
 with zeal and prudence, the duties of his ecclesi- 
 astical jurisdiction ; while he cheerfully renounced 
 the vain and splendid trappings of temporal great- 
 ness, he condescended, for the good of the Church, 
 
1 1 2 THE LA S T GLADIA TO RIAL SHO IV. 
 
 to direct the conscience of the emperors, and to 
 control the administration of the empire." 
 
 In 337 he was obliged to retire to Illyricum, 
 on account of an invasion by the warlike Goths. 
 They, however, were soon overcome by the Ro- 
 man Emperor, and the bishop, with his exiles, re- 
 turned home. Ambrose embraced every oppor- 
 tunity to defend the true faith against the Arians. 
 He devoted his whole energy, as well as his life, 
 to the Church. "Wealth was the object of his 
 contempt ; he had renounced his private patri- 
 mony, and he sold, without hesitation, the conse- 
 crated plate, for the redemption of captives. The 
 clergy and people of Milan were attached to their 
 Archbishop, and he deserved the esteem without 
 soliciting the favor or apprehending the displeas- 
 ure of his feeble sovereigns." He bestowed his 
 personal property, in the form of money, upon the 
 poor, gave his lands to the Church, and committed 
 the care of his house and family to his brother. 
 In 381, at a council of thirty-two bishops, at which 
 Ambrose presided, a dispute concerning the Arian 
 faith arose. He very quietly settled the matter, 
 after the disturbance had become intolerable, by 
 deposing two of the discontented bishops from 
 their offices. Three years later, the leader of the 
 pagans, a wealthy Senator, sent a petition to the 
 Emperor, asking for the restoration of the altar 
 
MONKS. 
 
 113 
 
 of victory to its ancient place in the hall of the 
 Senate, and the public funds for the support of the 
 seven vestal virgins, and their religious ceremo- 
 nies. Ambrose warned the Emperor not to grant 
 the petitions, saying : " It is a debt which a Chris- 
 tian prince owes to his faith not to give counte- 
 nance to heathen rites." 
 
 The Arians, who were now very formidable, had 
 the support of the young Emperor, Valentinian, 
 or rather of his mother, Justinia, a woman 'of 
 beauty and spirit, upon whom the government 
 principally devolved. She, believing that the Em- 
 peror had a right to demand as many churches as 
 he desired for the purpose of worship, without re- 
 gard to the faith, made a demand for the use of one 
 of two churches. It mattered little to her whether 
 it was situated in the city or suburbs. The bishop 
 positively refused the request, and said although 
 the palaces of the earth might belong to Caesar, 
 the churches were the houses of God, and that 
 within his diocese he was the lawful successor of 
 the apostles, and the only minister of God ; that 
 the privileges of Christianity, temporal as well as 
 spiritual, were (as he thought) confined to the 
 true believers, and he was satisfied that his theo- 
 logical opinions were right. He then declared it 
 his intention to die a martyr rather than to yield 
 to the impious sacrilege by delivering up the tern- 
 
114 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 pie of God into the hands of Arians. Justinia, 
 enraged at the refusal, declared it disloyalty and 
 rebellion. She, desiring to perform her devotions 
 at Easter, which was then approaching, summoned 
 the offending bishop into her presence, and that 
 of her council. He obeyed the summons with all 
 the respect that a subject was capable of showing, 
 but was followed, against his will, by a tumultuous 
 crowd of people, who pressed with loud clamor 
 against the gates of the imperial palace, and so 
 affrighted the timid rninisters of the Empress that 
 they humbly requested the Archbishop to inter- 
 pose his authority for the protection of the Em- 
 peror, and the restoration of peace in the city. 
 Ambrose persistently refused the use of a church 
 for the Emperor, and the court were obliged to 
 resort to means of force. They immediately is- 
 sued orders to the officers of the household, first 
 to prepare the Potion Church, and- afterward the 
 new Basilica for the reception of the Emperor 
 and his mother. The canopy and hanging of the 
 royal seat were arranged, but it was found neces- 
 sary to protect them from the violence of the peo- 
 ple by a strong guard. The Arian priests, who 
 made their appearance in the streets, did it at the 
 risk of their lives, and more than once the generous 
 prelate had the privilege of rescuing his avowed 
 enemies from death at the hands of his people. 
 
MONKS. 1 1 5 
 
 During this preparation, Ambrose preached, with 
 pathetic vehemence, from his pulpit, and likened the 
 Empress to Eve, to the wife of Job, to Jezebel and 
 Herodias. Still, at the same time, he restrained 
 his people from public violence. The bishop was 
 supported by the populace and most respectable 
 citizens in his continued refusal of the church; 
 and the court, finding violence to be of no avail, 
 solicited Ambrose to restore peace to his country 
 by complying with the will of his Emperor. He 
 resolutely replied : " If you demand my patrimony, 
 which is devoted to the poor, take it ; if you de- 
 mand my person, I am ready to submit. Carry 
 me to prison or to death, I will not resist ; but I 
 will never betray the Church of Christ. I will not 
 call upon the people to succor me ; I will die at the 
 foot of the altar rather than desert it. The tumult 
 of the people I will not encourage, but God alone 
 can appease." 
 
 The Emperor and court were determined no 
 longer to submit to this defiance of their power, 
 and a large body of Goths were dispatched to take 
 possession of the church. They were encoun- 
 tered on the threshold by the Archbishop, who, 
 thundering out a threat of excommunication, 
 asked them by what authority they presumed to 
 enter the house of God. Struck with terror, the 
 barbarians returned to^the Empress, who was per- 
 
1 1 6 THE LAST GLADTA TO RIAL SHOW. 
 
 suaded, temporarily, to leave Ambrose in posses- 
 sion of the churches of Milan. This peace was, 
 however, quite temporary ; for, soon after, an edict 
 of toleration to all Arians was issued by the Em- 
 peror, and it was announced to Ambrose that he 
 would be allowed to choose the place of his ex- 
 ile and the number of persons he desired to at- 
 tend him. Mr. Gibbon thus describes the man- 
 ner in which the determined bishop received the 
 edict : " He boldly refused to obey ; and his re- 
 fusal was supported by the unanimous consent of 
 his faithful people. They guarded, by turns, the 
 person of their Archbishop ; the gates of the cathe- 
 dral, and the Episcopal palace, were strongly se- 
 cured, and the imperial troops, who had formed 
 the blockade, were unwilling to risk the attack 
 of that impregnable fortress. The numerous 
 poor, who had been relieved by the liberality of 
 Ambrose, embraced the fair occasion of signaliz- 
 ing their zeal and gratitude." The same author 
 continues: "While he maintained this arduous 
 contest, he was instructed by a dream to open the 
 earth in a place where the remains of two mar- 
 tyrs, Gervasius and Protassius, had been deposited 
 above three hundred years. Immediately under 
 the pavement of the church two perfect skeletons 
 were found, with the heads separated from their 
 bodies, and a plentiful effusion of blood. The 
 
MONKS. 1 1 7 
 
 holy relics were presented in solemn pomp to the 
 veneration of the people, and every circumstance 
 of this fortunate discovery was admirably adapted 
 to promote the designs of Ambrose. The bones 
 of the martyrs, their blood, their garments, were 
 supposed to contain a healing power, and the pre- 
 ternatural influence was communicated to the most 
 distant objects without losing any part of its orig- 
 inal virtue. The extraordinary cure of a blind 
 man, the reluctant confessions of several demo- 
 niacs, appeared to justify the faith and sanctity of 
 Ambrose, and the truth of these miracles is at- 
 tested by Ambrose himself, by his Secretary, 
 Paulinus, and by his proselyte, the celebrated Au- 
 gustine, who, at that time, professed the art of 
 rhetoric at Milan."* It is said that the blind man 
 above referred to received his sight by touching 
 the garment in which the corpse of the martyr 
 was wrapped, and that he devoted the remainder 
 of his life (two years) to the service of the Church. 
 How true these miracles are, we are not able to 
 say. Our only object in mentioning them is to 
 inform you of what several great historians have 
 affirmed to be facts. 
 
 Ambrose, again victorious, and more powerful 
 than ever, instead of growing vain, exhibited one 
 of tlic noisiest traits of his character, in sacrificing 
 
 *GiI)ljon, xxvii chap. 
 
Il8 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 personal resentment for the public good. More 
 than once he served as an embassador for the em- 
 peror who sought to banish him. In the year 
 387, when Maximus and his army took possession 
 of Milan, Ambrose stood at his post, and a sec- 
 ond time sold the consecrated plate used in the 
 service of the Church, in order that he might ob- 
 tain money to alleviate suffering. After Theodo- 
 sius, the Emperor of the East, had again restored 
 Valentinian to his throne, information was re- 
 ceived that the monks and populace of a small 
 town on the border of Persia had burnt a Jewish 
 synagogue. The magistrate of the province com- 
 manded the bishop who had instigated the dis- 
 turbance, either to rebuild the synagogue or pay 
 the damage. The Emperor Theodosius had con- 
 firmed the command. Ambrose told the Emperor 
 that he did not defend the offending bishop as 
 having done altogether right, but he remonstrated 
 privately with him not to enforce the command 
 which he had recently confirmed, alleging as a 
 reason that the toleration of the Jewish was a per- 
 secution of the Christian religion. Besides this, 
 he addressed the Emperor publicly, from the pul- 
 pit, and refused to offer the oblation of the altar 
 until he had obtained full pardon for the bishop 
 and monks who caused the conflagration. The 
 sedition of Thessalonica, so terrible in its nature, 
 
MONKS. 119 
 
 was the instance of the grandest monument to 
 the memory of Ambrose. Without any just rea- 
 son, the rabble of this, the capital of the lUyrian 
 provinces, had murdered the General, Botheric, 
 and several officers of his army, while assembled 
 to witness the public games. The Emperor, who 
 then resided at Milan, determined that the blood 
 of his general should be expiated by the blood of 
 the guilty people. His bishops, at first, had al- 
 most obtained a free pardon for the Thessalonians ; 
 but Theodosius again grew enraged, and dispatched 
 the messengers of death. After they had de- 
 parted, he repented, and tried to recall them, but 
 it was too late. The people of Thessalonica were, 
 invited in the name of their sovereign, to the 
 games of the circus, and at the signal, which was 
 supposed to be for the race, the soldiers, who had 
 been concealed, arose from their hiding-places and 
 slew, without distinction of age or sex, guilt or 
 innocence, native or stranger, for three hours, and, 
 according to the lowest estimate, as many as seven 
 thousand were massacred. Some authors even 
 affirm that no less than fifteen thousand persons 
 were slain by this rash command of the usually 
 moderate and generous Emperor. " A foreign 
 merchant, who had probably no concern in this 
 murder, offered his own life and all his wealth to 
 supply the place of one of his two sons ; but, while 
 
1 20 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 the father hesitated with equal tenderness ; while 
 he was doubtful which to choose, and unwilling 
 to condemn, the soldiers determined his suspense 
 by plunging their daggers, at the same moment, 
 into the breasts of the defenseless youths."* 
 
 When Ambrose became acquainted with the 
 circumstances that occasioned this cruel massacre, 
 filled with anguish, he retired into the country 
 that he might avoid Theodosius, and indulge the 
 bitterness of his grief While thus in seclusion, 
 he penned a letter to the wicked Emperor, in which 
 he represented to him the enormity of his guilt, 
 and told him that it could only be forgiven when 
 he should become sincerely penitent. He advised 
 him not to dare to receive the holy eucharist with 
 hands that were still polluted with the blood of 
 an innocent people. To this admonition the 
 worthy prelate added a threat of excommunica- 
 tion. Theodosius was much affected by these 
 deserved reproofs, yet proceeded, as usual, to the 
 Church of Milan to perform his devotion. " He 
 was stopped in the porch by the Archbishop, who, 
 in the tone and language of an embassador from 
 heaven, declared to his sovereign that private con- 
 trition was not sufficient to atone for a public 
 fault, or to appease the justice of an offended Deity. 
 Theodosius humbly represented that, if he had 
 
 * Gilibon, xxvii chap. 
 
MONKS. 121 
 
 contracted the guilt of homicide, David, the man 
 after God's own heart, had been guilty, not only 
 of murder, but of adultery. ' You have imitated 
 David in his crime, imitate then his repentance,' 
 was the reply of the undaunted Ambrose." 
 
 It was not until eight months had elapsed that 
 the Emperor was again received into the full priv- 
 ileges of the Church. During this time, he ap- 
 peared in public, stripped of the ensigns of royalty, 
 in a mournful and suppliant posture, in the Church 
 of Milan, soliciting the pardon of his sins. So 
 thorough was his repentance, that, in order to 
 prevent any future rashness, he signed an edict 
 enjoining a space of thirty days between the an- 
 nouncement of any sentence of death or confisca- 
 tion and its execution. 
 
 Ambrose died in the year 397, A. D. His ill- 
 ness was but short, and so perfectly was his mind 
 composed, when he discovered that the hour of 
 his departure was at hand, that he declared to his 
 friends " that he had not conducted himself so 
 among them as to be either ashamed to live or 
 afraid to die." Many traditionary miracles might 
 be cited in this account of the life of Ambrose ; 
 but a life, already so grand of itself, can not, in 
 tlTC least, be embellished by superstitious fables. 
 Some of these are as follows: He instantaneously 
 cured a woman in Milan who was affected with 
 
1 2 2 THE LAST GLADIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 paralysis, while he was praying at her bedside. 
 Two Arians, who affronted him, were instantly 
 thrown from their horses and killed. A globe of 
 fire, which covered his head in his last illness, 
 and finally entered his mouth, left his face white 
 as snow. The last of these is, that a voice pro- 
 claimed aloud to a bishop, who was in the house, 
 just as he was expiring: "Arise, and hasten to 
 him, for he is departing." 
 
 Ambrose was indeed a great man, and we can 
 not speak with too much praise of his firmness, 
 his liberality to the poor, his generosity to those 
 who ill-used him ; of his zeal in the cause of hu- 
 manity, and for the exalted sanctity in which he 
 held the Church of Christ, and all the holy ordi- 
 nances instituted by the Master himself Quite 
 insufficient indeed would be our praise for such a 
 defender of the doctrine of Christ's divinity, and 
 were no other great work recorded of his life, this 
 alone would be enough. 
 
 We consider Ambrose one of the very few who 
 have lived, who, while yet a servant, was really a 
 ruler ; while a subject, was also a sovereign. 
 
 References— Gibbon, xxvii chap. ; M'Clintock & Strong's 
 Biblical Cyc; Rees's Cyc. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BASIL THE GREAT AND GREGORY NAZIANZEN. 
 
 T is not our intention to enter into a re- 
 hearsal of details in this chapter, but to 
 give merely an outline of the lives of 
 these two great Fathers, who, while they were 
 Fathers of the Church, were Fathers of the desert 
 also. We hope that the reader, after perusing 
 this very inadequate biography, which we present 
 here, may find the inclination to study the lives 
 of Basil and Gregory more thoroughly elsewhere. 
 So closely connected were they, from the begin- 
 ning to the end of their labors, that we do not 
 feel warranted in treating them separately. 
 
 Basil, one of the most eminent of the Greek 
 Fathers, was born about the year 328, at Neo- 
 caesarea. In his own family he found nobility, 
 riches, and sanctity. From his father he received 
 the first rudiments of his education in the study 
 of polite literature and rhetoric. From his grand- 
 mother he received his instruction in Divine 
 
 123 
 
124 ^^^^ LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 things, and his love for all that is good and en- 
 nobling. He first studied at Caesarea, in Pales- 
 tine ; then proceeded to Constantinople, where he 
 became a pupil of the famous Libanius, who was 
 charmed by the wondrous eloquence of his young 
 disciple. At length he went to Athens for the 
 purpose of studying science more thoroughly. 
 Here he formed a life-long friendship for Gregory 
 of Nazianzen, who was only one year his junior. 
 The father of this great and good man was 
 the Bishop Gregory. ' His mother was Nonna, a 
 woman whose piety has been the admiration of all 
 students of Church history. At the birth of her 
 son she presented him to the Lord, and dedicated 
 him, by her promises and prayers, to His service. 
 The son naturally inherited the piety and virtue 
 of his mother, and his life is one of the finest ex- 
 amples of pure disinterestedness and unselfish- 
 ness in the various steps to public honor, which 
 he did not ascend of his own desire, but up which 
 he was led by others. His eloquence was only 
 equaled by that of Basil ; and, in order that he 
 might perfect his talents wholly for the good of 
 the Church, he studied at both the Caesareas, 
 then at Alexandria, and finally at Athens. The 
 first fruit of his youthful labors was reaped on 
 nis voyage from Alexandria to Athens. The ves- 
 sel in which he sailed was beaten about for twenty 
 
MONKS. 125 
 
 days in a terrible storm, during which time the 
 crew and passengers were exposed to the most 
 imminent peril. Gregory prayed without ceasing 
 for the deliverance of the ship, and in response 
 to his supplications, the sea became calm. Those 
 on board acknowledged that it was through his 
 instrumentality that they had been saved, and 
 they all immediately embraced the Christian 
 faith. While at Athens Gregory affirms that he 
 and his friend knew only two streets in that large 
 city — one led to the church, the other to the 
 school. "To others," said he, "we left the road 
 to profane banquets, to plays, balls, and assem- 
 blies, for nothing should interest us that does not 
 tend to regulate our lives." 
 
 Resuming our account of Basil, we find that in 
 the year 355, at the death of his father, he re- 
 turned to his home at Caesarea. Remaining there 
 a short time, sufficient to settle the estate, he 
 sold his portion, and traveled through Mesopo- 
 tamia, Palestine, and Egypt. In this journey he 
 visited the monks and solitaries in those regions, 
 and admired their austerities and laborious life, 
 with their extraordinary fervor, and assiduity in 
 prayer. He was astonished to perceive that, al- 
 though invincible to sleep, and the other neces- 
 sities of nature, in hunger, thirst, cold, and 
 nakedness, without a wish for any species of 
 
1 26 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 relief, as if their body were a stranger to them — 
 with one object in life only, and that a prepara- 
 tion for the future, they exhibited how men, while 
 yet on earth, may claim citizenship in heaven. 
 
 Three years later he retired to a solitude of 
 Pontus, where he built a monastery near that of 
 his sister Macrius, where his mother then re- 
 sided. Here, in company with his two brothers, 
 and a great many others, whom he gathered 
 around him, he became the founder of monas- 
 ticism in those regions.. From this place he 
 wrote to Gregory, who was then at home with 
 his parents, and at length persuaded him to join 
 him in his solitude. In the year 362 Eusebius 
 ordained Basil priest, much against his will, for 
 he chose rather to remain in his solitude at Pon- 
 tus. The reputation that Basil soon gained in 
 Caesarea for his fearless denunciation of Arians, 
 together with his eloquence, excited the envy of 
 the prelate who had so lately elevated him. He, 
 discovering this, made his escape to his old home, 
 the monastery of Pontus. Gregory, just previous 
 to the ordination of Basil, had been called home, 
 and ordained by his father, who much needed his 
 assistance. He again rejoined his old compan- 
 ion in his retreat, and by means of letters ad- 
 dressed to Eusebius succeeded in reconciling 
 him with Basil, who returned again to Caesarea. 
 
MONKS. 127 
 
 In 370 Eusebius died, and, after much opposition 
 on the part of ambitious and scheming bishops 
 of neighboring cities, who desired to succeed 
 Eusebius themselves, Basil was elected, much to 
 the gratification of the people of Csesarea. We 
 will not attempt to follow Basil in all that he 
 endured and accomplished during his episcopate. 
 He was persecuted by the Emperor Valens ; but 
 under the Emperor Gratian, who succeeded to 
 the throne of the East, he had the satisfaction 
 of seeing all persecutions stopped, and all the 
 banished bishops recalled. Finally, after a long 
 series of cares, episcopal solicitude, instructions, 
 dogmatic writings, contests with Arians, toils 
 and persecutions, endured with heroic fortitude — 
 after a life ever pure, yet ever penitential, ever 
 crossed with contradiction and opposition, and 
 ever adorned with resplendent virtue, the fre- 
 quent maladies which he had suffered, and the 
 strict asceticism he had practiced, brought on 
 that hour which was to terminate this glorious 
 career of sanctity. He died January ist, 379, in 
 the fiftieth year of his age, with these words on 
 his lips : " O Lord, into thy hands I commend 
 my spirit." 
 
 Loud were the lamentations of his bereaved 
 people, who so loved him that vast multitudes fol- 
 lowed him to his grave, and pressed forward to 
 
128 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 touch his body, or procure a shred of his garment ; 
 and it was with great difficulty that his body was 
 carried through the throng of mourners to its last 
 resting place, where it was deposited in the tomb 
 of the bishops, his predecessors. Let us now re- 
 turn to Gregory, from whom we have digressed 
 in following the career of Basil the Great. 
 
 From his quiet retreat in Pontus, he was called 
 by Basil to go to Sasimes, an insignificant and 
 unknown town in Cappadocia, and settle a diffi- 
 culty which he had with the Bishop of Tyanes. 
 Basil, thinking of the good of the Church, proba- 
 bly without a thought of the brilliant talents he 
 was about to shut up in seclusion, had issued the 
 order. This quite offended Gregory, to think that 
 the Archbishop, out of his fifty bishoprics, would 
 consign him to such a humiliating exile, and it 
 was with great reluctance that he submitted. 
 Losing his aged father in 374, and soon after his 
 mother, the pious Nonna, he accepted the tempo- 
 rary government of the Church of Nazianzen, 
 which his father had served for forty-five years. 
 Many were the persecutions suffered by the or- 
 thodox Christians in Constantinople during the 
 reign of Valens. They had almost died out, and it 
 was found necessary to call some great champion 
 into the field against the Arians. At the recom- 
 mendation and request of a number of bishops, 
 
MONKS, 
 
 129 
 
 Gregory was prevailed upon to come to the capi- 
 tal. In speaking of his entry into that second 
 Rome, he says that his purpose must have ap- 
 peared no less extraordinary than that of David 
 when he opposed Goliath ; that there could be no 
 man more contemptible in the eyes of the world 
 than he. Upon his arrival, he was entertained in 
 the house of a pious and charitable kinsman. 
 The, most spacious room was consecrated to the 
 uses of religious worship. To this he gave the 
 name of Anastasia, or the Resurrection ; because 
 the Catholic faith seemed to have its resurrection 
 in this particular spot. His success was astonish- 
 ing. People ran in crowds to listen, and they some- 
 times even forced the balustrade of the choir in or- 
 der to hear him more distinctly. There were no 
 heretics of any sect whatever, nor even pagans, who 
 did not listen to him with pleasure-— some to imbibe 
 his doctrine, others attracted by his thrilling elo- 
 quence ; in fact, he was heard by all with unqual- 
 ified admiration. The Anastasia was enlarged 
 into a spacious church, and for two years its pul- 
 pit was the scene of his labors and triumphs. His 
 success provoked the jealousy of the Arian party 
 They falsely represented to the people that Greg- 
 ory preached the doctrine of three Gods, and the 
 devout populace, headed by their leaders, under- 
 took to suppress the assemblies of the eloquent 
 9 
 
I30 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 preacher. From the Cathedral of St. Sophia 
 there issued a motley crowd of " common beggars, 
 who had forfeited their claim to piety ; of monks, 
 who had the appearance of goats or satyrs, and 
 of women, more terrible than so many Jezebels." 
 All these allies flocked to the Anastasia, broke 
 down its doors, and entered while baptism was 
 being administered. No little mischief was per- 
 petrated by the use of sticks, stones, and fire- 
 brands. They even sacrilegiously dashed down 
 the sacred vessels of the altar, and then enthroned 
 their bishop, Damophilus. Over the ruin they had 
 made, some danced and drank wine ; others car- 
 ried their persecution still further. Several were 
 wounded with stones, and one man was beaten to 
 death in the midst of the city for boldly professing 
 Christ. Even this did not satisfy them. They 
 inflicted every imaginable outrage upon those 
 who unwaveringly professed their faith. Such 
 were driven from their houses and hunted in their 
 retreats. Gregory they dragged like a malefactor 
 before the magistrate, accusing him of being the 
 cause of tumult and sedition ; but he was acquitted 
 of all the charges, and the persecutions which he 
 experienced served only to increase the number 
 of his followers. His already great celebrity in- 
 creased, and St. Jerome came from a distance to 
 visit him, and afterward boasted of having had 
 
MONKS. 1 3 I 
 
 the honor of being his pupil. The Cathohcs were 
 now sufficiently strong in number to lay claim to 
 a bishop, and they unanimously declared their in- 
 tention of conferring the honor on Gregory. 
 
 Maximus, an Egyptian cynic philosopher, whom 
 he had himself recently baptized and received into 
 the lower orders of the Church, being envious of 
 his approaching honor, determined to rescue it for 
 himself. This individual, by numerous intrigues, 
 considerable boldness, and possibly not a few 
 bribes, engaged some Egyptian bishops to assist 
 him. Gregory, on account of illness, was obliged 
 to quit the city and retire for a time into the 
 country. The confederates of the envious con- 
 spirator, unwilling to lose their first opportunity, 
 broke into the church during the first night, and 
 placed Maximus upon the throne. The great 
 body of the people, of all classes, were so indig- 
 nant at this proceeding that they assembled, and, 
 with the utmost fury, drove the intruders from the 
 church, who were now obhged to consult their 
 safety by flight. " This attempt to supplant him 
 produced much uneasiness in the breast of Greg- 
 ory, and made him very desirous of retirement ; 
 and, after a time, he determined to resign a charge 
 which involved him in increasing troubles. He 
 accordingly announced his intention to his people 
 in a farewell discourse, in the course of which he 
 
132 THE LAST G LABIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 pathetically exhorted them to persevere in the or- 
 thodox faith which he had taught them, and to be 
 mindful of the labors and sufferings he had un- 
 dergone for that cause. No sooner had he fin- 
 ished his exhortation than he was surrounded by 
 persons of all ages, sexes, and qualities, who were 
 so earnest in their entreaties, that he would remain, 
 that at length he promised not to desert them till 
 the Eastern bishops, who were expected soon to 
 assemble at Constantinople, would release him by 
 choosing a more worthy person to fill his place."* 
 Just at this time, (380 A. D.,) Theodosius the 
 Great was created a partner in the Imperial 
 throne. The Catholics of Constantinople were 
 filled with joy at his baptism, and his promise to 
 restore them to their churches. He immediately 
 avowed himself a supporter of the orthodox faith, 
 and issued an edict commanding all his subjects 
 to accept the doctrine of the Catholic Church 
 concerning the Trinity. When he had finished 
 his campaign, he made his public entry at the 
 head of a victorious army. He greeted Gregory 
 with the warmest tokens of esteem, and welcomed 
 him to the Imperial city, telling him that God 
 had sent him to give him possession of the 
 Church, which he was ready to deliver up mto 
 his hands as a reward for his labors. A day was 
 * Rees's Cyclopedia. 
 
MONKS. 133 
 
 appointed for his installation; but at Gregory's 
 request the ceremony was deferred. Theodosius 
 summoned Damophilus, the Arian bishop, and 
 offered him the severe alternative of subscribing 
 to the Nicene faith or of instantly resigning to 
 the orthodox believers the use and possession of 
 the episcopal palace, the Cathedral of St. Sophia, 
 and all the churches of Constantinople. The 
 zealous prelate chose the latter, and retired to a 
 life of exile. The people still clamored for Greg- 
 ory as bishop, and he was obliged to send mes- 
 sages begging them to desist. He refused to 
 submit until the Emperor, already overcome with 
 admiration for his modesty, took him forcibly and 
 placed him upon the arch-episcopal throne of the 
 East. Into the hands of the great Gregory was 
 transferred the control of a hundred churches in 
 Constantinople alone. The zeal of the Emperor 
 deprived the Arians of so much as a place to 
 worship, and dealt with them as if they were 
 traitors and infamous persons. On the day of in- 
 stallation the Church of St. Sophia was occupied 
 by a large body of the Imperial Guards. The 
 Emperor conducted Gregory through the streets 
 in solemn triumph, and with his own hand re- 
 spectfully placed him in his seat of office. '* But 
 the saint (who had not subdued the imperfections 
 of human virtue) was deeply affected by the 
 
1 34 THE LAST GLAD/A TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 mortifying consideration that his entrance into 
 the fold was that of a wolf rather than a shep- 
 herd ; that the glittering arms which surrounded 
 his person were necessary for his safety ; that he 
 alone was the object of the imprecations of a 
 great party, whom, as men and citizens, it was 
 impossible for him to despise. He beheld the 
 innumerable multitude of either sex, and of every 
 age, who crowded the streets, the windows, and 
 the roofs of the houses ; he heard the tumultuous 
 voice of rage, grief, and despair; and Gregory 
 fairly confesses that on the memorable day of his 
 installation the capital of the East wore the ap- 
 pearance of a city taken by storm and in the 
 hands of a barbarian conqueror."* He records 
 what was considered by the orthodox as a man- 
 ifestation of God's pleasure. It was late in No- 
 vember, and the morning was exceedingly dark, 
 and the sky densely clouded, but the sun broke 
 forth and shone brilliantly upon the procession as 
 it entered the church. Six weeks afterward 
 Theodosius sent his lieutenant, Sapor, armed 
 with the ample powers of a general, and a 
 strong military force, to expel all Arian bishops, 
 and their clergy, from the churches. Sapor, 
 however, used such discretion, and, at the same 
 time, such vigor, that he completed the object 
 
 * Gibbon, chap, xxvii. 
 
MONK'S. 135 
 
 of his commission without any bloodshed. About 
 this time the Emperor, hoping to settle the much- 
 contested doctrine of the Trinity, called the 
 second Ecumenical Council to meet in Constan- 
 tinople. 
 
 The number of bishops composing the assembly 
 was one hundred and fifty. The first business 
 performed by the Council was the confirmation 
 of Gregory as bishop. He hoped even at this 
 time to be freed alike from its duties and its 
 honors ; but, notwithstanding his tearful remon- 
 strances, they refused to grant his request. It 
 was not long, however, before our pure-minded 
 and sober bishop was subjected to the envy and 
 intrigue of that ever-malicious and adverse fac- 
 tion of the Egyptians. They determined his 
 ruin, if it were possible, and "the pride or the 
 humility of Gregory prompted him to decline a 
 contest which might have been imputed to am- 
 bition or avarice ; and he publicly offered, not 
 without some mixture of indignation, to renounce 
 the government of a Church which had been re- 
 stored, and almost created, by his labors."* In 
 the peroration to his resignation speech, with 
 eloquence that might almost be called sublime, 
 he takes a solemn leave of men and angels, the 
 city and the Emperor, the East and the West, 
 
 *■ Gibbon, 
 
1 36 THE LAST GLAD 1 A TORI A L SHO W. 
 
 forever.* The ingratitude of the Council is not 
 to be wondered at, for "such unjust and dis- 
 orderly proceedings forced the gravest members 
 of the assembly to dissent and to secede; and 
 the clamorous majority, which remained masters 
 of the field of battle, could be compared only to 
 wasps or magpies, to a flight of cranes, or to a 
 flock of geese. A suspicion may possibly arise 
 that so unfavorable a picture of ecclesiastical 
 synods has been drawn by the partial hand of 
 some obstinate heretic, or some malicious infidel ; 
 but the name of the sincere historian who has 
 conveyed this instructive lesson to the knowl- 
 edge of posterity, must silence the impotent mur- 
 murs of superstition and bigotry. But he was 
 one of the most pious and eloquent bishops of 
 the age — a saint and a doctor of the Church — 
 the scourge of Arianism and the pillar of the or- 
 thodox faith — a distinguished member of the 
 Council of Constantinople, in which, after the 
 death of Meletius, he exercised the functions of 
 president — in a word, Gregory Nazianzen him- 
 self"! 
 
 Gregory, after taking leave of the Council, re- 
 tired to his former silent retreat in Cappadocia, 
 where he devoted the remainder of his life, (about 
 
 * See Gregory's History of his own Life, xxxii Oration, 
 t Gibbon. 
 
MONKS. 137 
 
 eight years,) in the exercises of piety and devo- 
 tion. His piety was of the purest kind, and his 
 benevolence and charity were boundless, for they 
 led him to devote the whole of his income to the 
 relief of the poor and afflicted. He died in 389, 
 aged sixty-five years, an ornament to the age in 
 which he lived. "The title of saint has been 
 added to his name, but the tenderness of his 
 heart, and the elegance of his genius, reflect a 
 more pleasing luster on the memory of Gregory 
 Nazianzen." * 
 
 * For brief and interesting biographies of Basil and Gregory, 
 see Gibbon, M'Clintock and Strong's Bib. Cyc, Cyc. Brit, and 
 Challoner's Fathers of the Desert, (Catholic,) and many others. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, THE "GOLDEN MOUTHED," 
 
 E have come to take a look at John, the 
 prince of Church Fathers. On account 
 of the fluency and sweetness of his elo- 
 quence, he obtained, after his death, the surname 
 of Chrysostom, or "golden mouth." But the 
 tenderness of his nature, the piety alike of his 
 youth and old age ; his undaunted zeal in the cause 
 of virtue, and his untiring energy in the cause of 
 humanity and charity, are titles far more glorious, 
 by which he holds place at the head of the ora- 
 tors and bishops of the fourth and subsequent 
 centuries. John was born about the year 344, at 
 Antioch, the capital city of Syria. His family 
 was both noble and opulent. He had one elder 
 sister, and was the only son and heir of Secundus, 
 master of the horse, or chief commander, of the 
 imperial troops in Syria. His mother, Anthusa, 
 was left a widow when only twenty years of age, 
 13S 
 
MONKS. 1 39 
 
 and continued such the remainder of her hfe. 
 She might readily be termed a second Nonna. 
 History has been so jealous of their fame that it 
 has transmitted them side by side to posterity. 
 The tender care that she exercised over her chil- 
 dren, and her earnest devotion, made such an im- 
 pression on her son's master, the most illustrious 
 orator of the day, and a pagan, that he could not 
 forbear crying out, "What wonderful women have 
 the Christians !" 
 
 Eloquence being esteemed the highest accom- 
 plishment, especially among the nobility, and be- 
 ing the surest means of ascent to the first digni- 
 ties in the State, Anthusa had her son study that 
 art, under the celebrated Libanius, who soon discov- 
 ered the extraordinary talents of his disciple. So 
 great was his natural genius that even in his youth 
 he excelled his masters. The world-renowned 
 Libanius considered him his equal ; for, on his 
 death-bed, when asked who should succeed him in 
 his school, he replied: "John, had not the Chris- 
 tians stolen him from us." The piety of Chrysos- 
 tom soon led him to receive baptism, and quit the 
 lucrative and honorable profession of the law for a 
 life of self-humiliation and prayer. He deter- 
 mined to dedicate himself and his powers to God, 
 without reserve, and, in lieu of his legal cloak, he 
 put on a coarse, gray coat. He spent the greater 
 
I40 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 part of his time in studying the Scriptures, and 
 in meditation, and especially in overcoming his 
 passion for the vanities and glory of the world. 
 Meletus, the Bishop of Antioch, called the young 
 ascetic to the service of the Church by ordaining 
 him reader, and, during three years, he studied 
 under the instruction of that prelate at his own 
 palace. At the end of this period, he expressed 
 his desire to be a monk, but his mother would not 
 consent to his entering a monastery. She told 
 him to be a monk at home, which he at last con- 
 sented to do. 
 
 While studying eloquence, John formed the 
 acquaintance of a fellow-student named Basil, 
 who, like Basil the Great to Gregory, seemed to 
 be a very desirable companion for our young ora- 
 tor. This friend continued to visit him in his 
 little monastery at home. They, together, pre- 
 vailed upon two other fellow-students under Li- 
 banius to embrace an ascetic life — Theodorus, 
 afterward Bishop of Mopsuestia, and Maximus, 
 Bishop of Seleucia. The former fell from grace, 
 and fell in love with a young lady at the same 
 time. John lamented his fall, and prayed God to 
 bring him back. He also addressed two pathetic 
 exhortations to repentance to his friend, "which 
 breathe an eloquence above the power of what 
 seems merely human," says Sozomen. His solic- 
 
MONKS. 141 
 
 itude was rewarded by the return of Theodorus. 
 Soon after, hearing that the bishops of the prov- 
 ince, then assembled at Antioch, contemplated 
 raising him to the Episcopal dignity, he concealed 
 himself until the chair was filled. His friend 
 Basil, without his own consent, was made bishop of 
 a neighboring city, and had no other resource, in 
 his grief for his promotion, but in tears and com- 
 plaints against his friend, whom he charged with 
 having betrayed him into so perilous an office. 
 John, who, at this time, was twenty-six years old, 
 addressed six excellent books on Xho^ priesthood to 
 Basil, which he wrote in his own justification. 
 When thirty years old, he retired into the mount- 
 ains near Antioch. There, in company with a 
 number of anchorets, he devoted himself to pious 
 reading, prayer, and meditating on the Scriptures. 
 These men, who had torn themselves away from 
 the allurements of the world, ate nothing but 
 bread, with a little salt ; some added a little oil — 
 the same as that burned in their lamps — and 
 those who were very weak took a few herbs, or 
 pulse. No one ever ate before sunset, and it was 
 not until after they had eaten that they were al- 
 lowed to converse with each other. Anger, jeal- 
 ousy, grief, envy, and anxiety for worldly goods 
 and concerns were unknown in these poor cells, 
 and Chrysostom assures us that the constant 
 
i42 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 peace, joy, and pleasure which reigned in them 
 were as different from the bitterness and tumultu- 
 ous scenes of the most brilliant worldly felicity, 
 as the security and calmness of the most agreea- 
 ble harbor are from the dangers and agitation of 
 the most tempestuous ocean. Four years Chrys- 
 ostom passed under the conduct of an old Syrian 
 monk, and two more in a cave alone, as a hermit. 
 Illness compelled him to quit his monastic life ; 
 and, in 381, he was ordained deacon. In 384, 
 Flavian- the bishop, who was far advanced in 
 age, made him priest, and constituted him his 
 vicar and preacher. During the twelve years that 
 he filled this important office, it seemed as if 
 nothing could withstand the united power of his 
 eloquence, zeal, and piety. He preached to the 
 hundred thousand Christians of Antioch several 
 days in the week, and sometimes several times on 
 the same day. He was successful in abolishing 
 the most inveterate abuses, repressed crime and 
 vice ; in fact, reformed that great and wicked city. 
 The Emperor Theodosius, finding it necessary 
 to levy a new tax on his subjects, to defray the 
 expenses of his war with Maximus, the usurper 
 of the Western throne, the people of Antioch re- 
 belled, and during a general riot, they discharged 
 their rage upon the Emperor's statues, those of 
 his father, and his own two sons, dragged them 
 
MONKS. 143 
 
 through the streets with ropes, and broke them in 
 pieces. When they had recovered from their 
 fury, they began to consider their rashness, 
 and many abandoned the city. The magistrates 
 apprehended great numbers of them, and filled 
 the prisons with citizens for trial. The fears of 
 the already affrighted people were considerably 
 heightened by the arrival of two of the Emperor's 
 officers, who had come to execute punishment. 
 The report was spread throughout the city that 
 the guilty would be burned alive, and their estates 
 confiscated, and that their insulted sovereign in- 
 tended to level the rebellious city with the ground. 
 The venerable Flavian, though feeble with age, 
 and though his sister was dying when he left her, 
 set out without delay, in the severest weather, to 
 implore the Emperor's clemency in favor of his 
 flock. Having arrived at the palace, and being 
 admitted into the imperial presence, he stopped at 
 a distance, and, holding down his head, covered 
 his face with his hands and wept silently. His 
 appearance was that of one who was himself 
 guilty and pleaded for his own crime. The Em- 
 peror, seeing him thus pressed down under the 
 weight of public guilt, instead of harshly reproach- 
 ing him, as might have been expected, began and 
 summed up the many favors he had conferred on 
 Antioch, and concluded by saying: "Is this the 
 
144 ^^^ ^^ -^^ ^ GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 acknowledgment I had reason to expect ? Is this 
 their return for my love? What cause of com- 
 plaint had they against me? Had I ever injured 
 them? But, granting that I had, what can they 
 allege for extending their insolence even to the 
 dead ? Had they received any wrong from them ? 
 Why were they to be insulted too? What ten- 
 derness have I not shown, on all occasions for 
 their city ? Is it not notorious that I have given 
 it the preference in my love and esteem to all 
 others, even to that which gave me birth ? Did 
 not I always express a longing desire to see it, 
 and declare that it gave me the highest satisfac- 
 tion to think I should soon be in a condition to 
 take a journey for this purpose?" 
 
 The venerable bishop, stung by the gentle re- 
 proaches of the Emperor, and ashamed of his 
 people, replied: "We acknowledge, sir, that you 
 have, on all occasions, favored us with the greatest 
 demonstrations of your singular affection; and 
 this it is that enhances both our crime and our 
 grief that we should have carried our ingratitude 
 to such a pitch as to have offended our best friend 
 and greatest benefactor ; hence, whatever punish- 
 ment you may inflict upon us, it will still fall short 
 of what we deserve. But, alas ! the evil we have 
 done ourselves is worse than innumerable deaths ; 
 for what can be more afflicting than to live in the 
 
MONKS. 145 
 
 judgment of all mankind, guilty of the blackest 
 ingratitude, and to see ourselves deprived of your 
 sweet and gracious protection, which was our bul- 
 wark ? We dare not look any man in the face ; no, 
 not the sun itself But, as great as our misery is, it 
 is not irremediable ; for it is in your power to re- 
 move it. Great affronts among private men have 
 often been the occasion of great charity. When 
 the devil's envy had destroyed man, God's mercy 
 restored him. That wicked spirit, jealous of our 
 city's happiness, has plunged her into this abyss 
 of evils, out of which you alone can rescue her. 
 It is your affection, I dare say it, which has 
 brought them upon us, by exciting the jealousy 
 of the wicked spirits against us. But, like God 
 himself, you may draw infinite good out of the 
 evil which they intended us. If you spare us, 
 you are revenged on them. Your clemency on 
 this occasion will be more honorable to you than 
 your most celebrated victories. It will adorn 
 your head with a far brighter diadem than that 
 which you wear, as it will be the fruit only of your 
 own virtue. Your statues have been thrown 
 down; if you pardon this insult, you will raise 
 yourself others — not of marble or brass, which 
 time destroys, but such as will exist eternally in 
 the hearts of all those who will hear of this ac- 
 tion. Your predecessor, Constantine the Great, 
 10 
 
146 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 when importuned by his courtiers to exert his 
 vengeance on some seditious people that had dis- 
 figured his statues by throwing stones at them, 
 did nothing more than stroke his face with his 
 hand, and told them, smiling, that he did not feel 
 himself much hurt. This, his saying, is in the 
 mouths of all men, and a more illustrious trophy 
 to his memory than all the cities which he built, 
 than all the barbarous nations which he subdued. 
 Remember your own memorable saying, when 
 you ordered the prisons to be opened, and the 
 criminals to be pardoned, at the feast of Easter: 
 * Would to God I were able in the same manner 
 to open the graves and restore the dead to life!' 
 That time has now come. Here is a city whose 
 inhabitants are already dead, and is, as it were, at 
 the gates of its sepulcher. Raise it, then, as it is 
 in your power to do, without cost or labor. A 
 word will suffice. Suffer it, by your clemency, to 
 be still named among the living cities. It will 
 then owe more to you than to its very founder. 
 He built it small ; you will raise it great and pop- 
 ulous. To have preserved it from being destroyed 
 by barbarians would not have been so great an 
 exploit as to spare it on such an occasion as now 
 offers. Neither is the preservation of an illustri- 
 ous city the only thing to be considered ; your 
 own glory, and, above all, the honor of the Chris- 
 
MONKS. 147 
 
 tian religion, are highly interested in this affair. 
 The Jews and pagans, all barbarous nations — nay, 
 the whole world, have their eyes fixed on you at 
 this critical juncture; all are waiting for the judg- 
 ment you will pronounce. If it be favorable, tliey 
 will be filled with admiration, and will agree to 
 praise and worship that God who checks the an- 
 ger of those who acknowledge no master upon 
 earth, and who can transform men into angels ; 
 they will embrace that religion which teaches 
 such sublime morahty. Listen not to those who 
 will object that your clemency on this occasion 
 may be attended with, and give encouragement 
 to, the like disorders in other cities. That could 
 only happen if you spared for want of power to 
 chastise ; but whereas you do not divest your- 
 self, by such an act of clemency, of this power, 
 and as by it you endear and rivet yourself the 
 more in the affections of your subjects, this, in- 
 stead of encouraging such insults and disorders, 
 will rather the more effectually prevent them. 
 Neither immense sums of money, nor innumera- 
 ble armies could ever have gained you so much 
 the hearts of your subjects, and their prayers 
 for your person and empire, as will this single 
 action. And, if you stand fair for being such a 
 ga'ner from men, what rewards may you not rea- 
 sonably expect from God } It is easy for a master 
 
1 48 THE LAST G LABIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 to punish, but rare and difficult to pardon. It 
 will be extremely glorious to you to have granted 
 this pardon at the request of a minister of the 
 Lord ; and it will convince the world of your 
 piety, in that you overlooked the unworthiness of 
 his person, and respected only the power and 
 authority of that Master who sent him. For, 
 though deputed immediately by the inhabitants 
 of Antioch to deprecate your just displeasure on 
 this occasion, it is not only in their name that I 
 appear in this place, for I am come from the 
 sovereign Lord of men and angels, to declare to 
 you in his name that if you pardon men their 
 faults he will forgive you your sins. Call to mind, 
 then, that dreadful day on which we shall all be 
 summoned to give an account of all our actions. 
 Reflect on your having it in your power, without 
 pain or labor, to eflace your sins, and to find 
 mercy at that terrible tribunal. You are about 
 to pronounce your own sentence. Other embas- 
 sadors bring gold, silver, and other presents ; but, 
 as for me, I offer nothing but the law of God, and 
 entreat you to imitate his example on the cross." 
 The eloquent and paternal bishop, so eager for 
 the peace and safety of his city, closed his touch- 
 ing speech with no small degree of flattery. He 
 assured the Emperor that if he refused to pardon 
 the city, he would never again return to it, nor 
 
MONKS. 149 
 
 look upon it as his country, which a prince of his 
 humane disposition could not prevail upon him- 
 self to pardon. Touched by the tender words of 
 the bishop, the Emperor, looking up with tears 
 in his eyes, briefly replied: "If Jesus Christ, the 
 Lord of all things, vouchsafed to pardon and pray 
 for those very men that crucified him, ought I to 
 hesitate to pardon them who have offended me, 
 I, who am but a mortal man, like them, and serv- 
 ant of the same Master?" 
 
 The servant of God, overjoyed at his success, 
 prostrated himself on the floor, and oflered to 
 spend Easter with Theodosius ; but the Emperor 
 told hini to hasten back to Antioch and relieve 
 his people of their anxiety. He immediately set 
 out, and at the same time dispatched a courier 
 before him with the Emperor's letter of pardon. 
 The venerable bishop arrived before Easter, and 
 it fell to the lot of his golden-mouthed orator to 
 break the happy news to the expectant people. 
 The introduction to this magnificent oration was 
 composed by the bishop, the remainder by Chry- 
 sostom himself; and so grand was the address 
 that he became the pride and wonder, not only of 
 Anlioch, but of the East. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SKETCH OF JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. 
 
 CONCLUDED. 
 
 HE fame of Chrysostom soon called him 
 to a higher and more influential position 
 in the Church. In the year 395 Theo- 
 dosius, the Emperor, died, and was succeeded by 
 Arcadius. The new Emperor was induced, two 
 years later, upon the death of Nectarius, Bishop 
 of Constantinople, to procure the election of John 
 to the patriarchate of the capital. Eutropius, his 
 Prime Minister, was the principal actor in the 
 affair. Through him Arcadius dispatched a secret 
 order to the Count of the East enjoining him to 
 send John to Constantinople by some stratagem. 
 The strictest privacy was commanded, lest a dis- 
 turbance should be raised by the people of An- 
 tioch, and their design be frustrated. The Count 
 succeeded in enticing Chrysostom outside of the 
 city walls to the tombs of the martyrs, under the 
 pretense of devotion. He there delivered him 
 150 
 
MONKS. 1 5 I 
 
 into the hands of an officer sent on purpose, who 
 talcing him into the chariot, conveyed him, with 
 all possible speed, to the Imperial city. 
 
 The proud Theophilus, Bishop of Alexandria, 
 had already arrived, and sought to place one of 
 his own bishops upon the archiepiscopal throne. 
 He used every means in his power, secretly and 
 illegally, to prevent the election of Chrysostom, 
 but fortunately was detected and threatened with 
 accusation before a synod. It was much against 
 his own will that John was consecrated, and raised 
 to what was afterward claimed by the East to be 
 the highest dignity in the Church. Although 
 thus elevated, he continued in the practice of his 
 rigid monastic virtues. "The ample revenues, 
 which his predecessors had consumed in pomp 
 and luxury, he diligently applied to the establish- 
 ment of hospitals ; and the multitudes who were 
 supported by his charity preferred the eloquent 
 and edifying discourses of their archbishop to the 
 amusements of the theater or circus." In bold- 
 ness of speech Chrysostom had no equal. He 
 was fearless, and sometimes rash. Loudly and 
 frequently he rebuked the young ladies of fashion 
 for their shamelessness and immodesty in dress. 
 Their disregard of decency in this corrupt age 
 was a constant and intolerable scandal to the 
 Church, but his irresistible eloquence made mod- 
 
1 5 2 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 esty respectable and its opposite shameful; and 
 scantiness in dress, as well as the miserable and 
 disgusting practice of swearing, was, to a great 
 extent, abandoned in Constantinople. Chrysos- 
 tom's influence with the people, and even with 
 the Emperor, was powerful. When Eutropius, the 
 Prime Minister, who was originally a slave, had 
 attained to the height of vanity and ambition, 
 and his ruin, so long unsuspected by him, was 
 impending, the bishop saved his life from the 
 swords of the soldiery who surrounded the church, 
 where he had fled for safety. Chrysostom pro- 
 ceeded to the Emperor, and begged that the un- 
 happy criminal, who had insolently insulted the 
 Empress, might be spared. So successful was 
 his mission that the Emperor, with tears in his 
 eyes, with the assistance of the bishop, prevailed 
 upon the soldiers to withdraw. On the following 
 day the infuriated people and soldiery returned, 
 and again threatened the fugitive official with 
 death, but, instead of performing their deed of 
 blood, they were melted to tears by an eloquent 
 and pathetic discourse of the bishop on the vanity 
 and treachery of human things, the emptiness and 
 falsehood of whigh he could not find a word em- 
 phatic enough to express. It was some days 
 after this when Eutropius left the church, hoping 
 to escape privately out of the city; but he was 
 
MONKS. 153 
 
 seized and banished by the General Gain as, who 
 was his enemy. 
 
 One of the principal reforms that engaged the 
 attention of Chrysostom was that of his clergy. 
 Encouraged by the pomp and splendor of the 
 former archbishop they had fallen into a love of 
 luxury and display. In their reformer they found 
 a far different example. His life was almost a 
 perfect model. He sold the costly furniture of 
 the Episcopal palace, and at one time caused a 
 quantity of the consecrated plate to be melted 
 down and sold for the relief of the suffering. He 
 condemned expenditures for sumptuous banquets, 
 and himself took his repasts (the most frugal 
 possible) alone. "The silent and solitary as- 
 cetics, who had excluded themselves from the 
 world, were entitled to the warmest approbation 
 of Chrysostom, but he despised, and stigmatized 
 as the disgrace of their holy profession, the crowd 
 of degenerate monks who, from some unworthy 
 motives of pleasure or profit, so frequently in- 
 fested the streets of the capital." 
 
 Upon hearing a complaint against the Bishop 
 of Ephesus he started on a journey of visitation 
 through the Asiatic provinces in the midst of a 
 severe Winter, convened a Council at Ephesus, 
 and finding the accused bishop guilty of the 
 charge preferred against him, deposed him. 
 
1 54 THE LAST GLAD I A TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 Councils were held in several of the neighbor- 
 ing cities, and no less than twelve other bishops 
 were deprived of their respective sees by the vir- 
 tuous and impartial archbishop. He was even 
 so rash as once to declare it as his free opinion 
 that the number of bishops who might be saved 
 bore a very small proportion to those who would 
 be lost. The fearlessness of speech, and rigidity 
 of the pastoral labors of the archbishop, provoked 
 and gradually united against him two potent en- 
 emies — the aspiring clergy, who were envious of 
 his grand success, and the obstinate, and espe- 
 cially opulent sinners, whom he constantly re- 
 proved for their vices. *' When Chrysostom thun- 
 dered from the pulpit of St. Sophia against the 
 degeneracy of the Christians, his shafts were 
 spent among the crowd without wounding, or 
 even making the character of any individual." 
 The magistrates, the ministers, the ladies of the 
 Court, and the Empress Eudoxia herself, were 
 not spared in his public exposures of guilt. He 
 assumed the right of exposing both offense and 
 offender from his pulpit. Severianus, Bishop of 
 Gabala, to whom Chrysostom had left the care 
 of his Church during his absence at Ephesus, 
 had "gained considerable reputation as a preacher, 
 and had become a particular favorite of the Em- 
 press Eudoxia. He had the audacity to preach 
 
MONKS. 155 
 
 against the archbishop in his own city. Zosi- 
 mus, the pagan historian, says of the empress, 
 that "her flagrant avarice, her extortions and 
 injustices, knew no bounds, and that the Court 
 was filled with informers, calumniators, and har- 
 pies, who, being always on the watch for prey, 
 found means to seize the estates of such as died 
 rich, and to disinherit their children or other 
 heirs." And such was the Court that Chrysos- 
 tom, who feared only God, was compelled, in dis- 
 charging his duty, to lift up his voice against and 
 condemn. 
 
 He had preached a sermon against the extrav- 
 agance and vanity of women in dress and pomp, 
 which was pretended by some to have been 
 leveled at the Empress. Severianus, thinking 
 this an opportunity, made use of it, by fanning 
 the flame of indignation and anger that had 
 already been kindled in the mind of Eudoxia. 
 By her invitation the haughty and turbulent 
 Theophilus, of Alexandria, landed at Constanti- 
 nople with a strong body of Egyptian mariners, to 
 encounter the populace and a train of dependent 
 bishops, who should form the majority in a synod 
 which he convened in the suburbs of Chalcedon, 
 called TJie Oak, from a large tree that gave the 
 name to that quarter of the town. At this synod 
 forty-seven diflerent heads of impeachment, the 
 
156 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 most frivolous in their nature, were read against 
 him. Chrysostom himself held a Council of forty- 
 bishops at St. Sophia, and refused the four suc- 
 cessive summons demanding his appearance at 
 the Coun-cil of The Oak, whereupon they deposed 
 him, and reported to the Emperor that he had 
 been guilty of comparing the Empress to Jezebel, 
 and that he might easily be accused of treason. 
 The Emperor issued an order of immediate ban- 
 ishment, but the people, infuriated, opposed ; and, 
 had it been the desire of their bishop, could easily 
 have prevented the execution of the sentence. 
 He, meekly submitting, made them a farewell 
 sermon, in which he addressed them as follows : 
 " Violent storms encompass me on all sides, yet 
 I am without fear, because I stand upon a rock. 
 Though the sea roar, and the waves rise high, 
 they can not sink the vessel of Jesus. I fear not 
 death, which is my gain, nor banishment, for the 
 whole earth is the Lord's ; nor the loss of goods, 
 for I came naked into the world, and must leave 
 it in the same condition. I despise all the terrors 
 of the world, and trample upon its smiles and 
 favor. Nor do I desire to live, unless for your 
 service. Christ is with me ; whom shall I fear } 
 Though waves rise against me, though the sea> 
 though the fury of princes threaten me — all these 
 are to me more contemptible than a spider's web. 
 
MONKS. 157 
 
 I always say, O Lord, may thy will be done — 
 not what this or that creature wills, but what 
 it shall please thee to appoint, that shall I do 
 and suffer with joy. This is my strong tower — 
 this is my unshaken rock — this is my staff that 
 can never fail. If God be pleased that it be done 
 let it be so. Wheresoever his will is that I be — 
 I return him thanks." 
 
 On the third day after he received his sentence, 
 in order to prevent any disturbance, he delivered 
 himself up secretly to a messenger of the Em- 
 peror, who rudely hurried him through the city, 
 and landed him, after a short navigation, in his 
 place of exile, near the entrance of the Euxine, 
 from whence, before two days, he was recalled, 
 only to be honored more than he had been de- 
 graded. 
 
 At the first news of his exile the people were 
 so astonished as to be altogether inactive ; but 
 when the enemies of their bishop entered the 
 city, and Severianus mounted the pulpit of St. 
 Sophia for the purpose of justifying the exile of 
 Chrysostom, they suddenly rose with unanimous 
 and irresistible fury. Theophilus and his auda- 
 cious preacher escaped. Both would have been 
 thrown into the sea had the infuriated mob found 
 them ; but the promiscuous crowd of monks and 
 Egyptian mariners was slaughtered without pity 
 
158 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 in the streets of Constantinople. That night an 
 earthquake shook the city; and the avengers of 
 injustice, assured that Heaven had seconded their 
 movement on the side of right, ventured to turn 
 their wrath on the Empress herself In wild con- 
 fusion the torrent of sedition rolled toward the 
 gates of the palace, and Eudoxia, filled with the 
 greatest consternation, threw herself at the feet 
 of the Emperor, crying out, " Unless John be re- 
 called our empire is undone !" And with his con- 
 sent, she sent letters the same night to the bishop, 
 falsely protesting that she was ignorant of his 
 banishment, and inviting him home with tender 
 expressions of affection and esteem. The Bos- 
 phorus was covered with innumerable vessels, the 
 shores of Europe and Asia were profusely illumin- 
 ated, and the acclamations of a victorious people, 
 accompanied from the port to the Cathedral the 
 triumph of the archbishop, who too easily con- 
 sented to re-assume the exercise of his functions 
 before his sentence had been legally reversed by 
 an ecclesiastical synod. 
 
 This glorious return to the Imperial city was 
 but a very brief one. Chrysostom, who was 
 bolder in his denunciation of evil than ever, soon 
 found occasion to condemn the profane honors 
 and public games that were celebrated about the 
 silver statue of the Empress that had just been 
 
MONKS. 
 
 159 
 
 erected, almost in the precincts of St. Sophia. 
 The vanity of the Empress was easily inflamed 
 by some enemies of the bishop, who invented the 
 infamous exordium of a sermon, " Herodias is 
 again furious ; Herodias again dances ; she once 
 more requires the head of John," which they re- 
 ported him to have uttered. His enemies were 
 again invited back ; but the cowardly Theophilus, 
 fearful of his head, durst not come. He sent 
 three deputies, who took with them bishops 
 enough to form a Council, which, without con- 
 sidering or examining into the justice of the 
 former sentence, confirmed it. When the sen- 
 tence of this second and final banishment was 
 received by the worthy prelate he was officiating 
 in the church, and, with the greatest calmness, 
 he announced his sentence, and said: "Come, 
 let us pray and take leave of the angel of the 
 Church." Bidding the bishops farewell he retired 
 privately out of the church, and was conducted 
 by Lucius, a brutish captain, into Bithynia, arriv- 
 ing at Nice in June, 404. He requested that he 
 might be allowed to reside at Cyzicus, but the 
 inexorable Empress assigned as his place of exile 
 the remote and desolate town of Caucasus, amono; 
 the ridges of Mount Taurus, in Lesser Armenia. 
 She in her cruelty even offered promotion to the 
 officers who conducted him to his remote prison, 
 
1 60 THE LAST GLADIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 if they would use him roughly enough to cause 
 his death on the way; but, after a severe march 
 of seventy days, fatigued and foot-sore, he arrived 
 at Mount Taurus, where he was received by many 
 friends, who kindly consoled him with their sym- 
 pathies and prayers. 
 
 After his banishment a series of calamities fell 
 upon Constantinople. The very night that fol- 
 lowed his departure the grand Cathedral of St. 
 Sophia, the stately and magnificent Senate-house, 
 and many other adjoining buildings of splendor, 
 were burned to the ground. With the Senate- 
 house perished the trophies of war and the works 
 of art that were then the pride of the Empire of 
 the'East. Among the rest were the incomparable 
 statues of the Muses from Helicon. Six months 
 later the wicked Empress herself died. Her death 
 was followed by a hail-storm so furious that the 
 most dreadful havoc was made with^every manner 
 of property in the city. But the character of 
 Chrysostom was "consecrated by absence and 
 persecution. The faults of his administration 
 were no longer remembered, but every tongue 
 repeated the praises of his genius and virtue, 
 and the respectful attention of the Christian 
 world was fixed on a desert spot among the 
 mountains of Taurus." From his lonely solitude 
 the archbishop kept up a constant correspond- 
 
MONKS. l6l 
 
 ence with the most distant provinces, his mind 
 more active than ever — exhorted his faithful ad- 
 herents to persevere in their allegiance, to destroy 
 the temples of Phoenicia, and to extirpate the 
 heresy in the Island of Cyprus. He communi- 
 cated with the Pope and Honorius, the Emperor 
 of the West, and on one occasion boldly appealed 
 from the decision of a partial synod to the 
 supreme authority of a General Council. Though 
 the Emperor had imprisoned the body of Chry- 
 sostom, he was unable to imprison his independent 
 mind. The illustrious exile continued to render 
 his persecutor uneasy by his reproofs and re- 
 proaches, until an order was dispatched for his 
 removal to Pytius, a town situated on the Euxine 
 Sea, at the extremity of the Empire, on the front- 
 iers of the most barbarous of the Scythians. His 
 guards, faithful to their instructions for "the in- 
 fliction of all manner of cruelty, compelled him 
 to walk all day and most of the night with his 
 bare head exposed alike to snow and rain, until 
 they had reached Comana, where he died, A. D. 
 407, from fatigue and exposure, in the sixtieth 
 year of his age. "The succeeding generation ac- 
 knowledged his innocence and merit. The arch- 
 bishops of the East, who might blush that their 
 predecessors had been the enemies of Chrysostom, 
 were gradually disposed, by the firmness of the 
 
1 62 THE LAST GLAD 1 A TORI A L SHO W. 
 
 Roman Pontiff, to restore the honors of that ven- 
 erable name." Thirty years afterward his re- 
 mains were transported to the royal city, and 
 deposited in the Church of the Apostles, the 
 burying-place of the emperors and bishops. His 
 ashes were afterward carried to Rome, and are 
 now said to rest under an altar bearing his name 
 in the Vatican Church. 
 
 He is styled by many of the old writers as 
 the " illustrious Doctor of Churches, whose glory 
 shines on every side, who fills the earth with the 
 light of his profound, sacred learning, and who 
 instructs by his works the remotest corners of 
 the earth, preaching every-where, even where his 
 voice could not reach." 
 
 We see in John Chrysostom the forerunner of 
 Luther and Whitefield, Wesley and Beecher. He 
 certainly is the grandest character in the history 
 of the Church. It is unnecessary for us to de- 
 lineate his character, when his life is the plainest 
 exhibition of it. The best that we can do is to 
 imitate, as well as admire John, the Golden- 
 Mouthed. 
 
 Note. — In the preparation of this brief biography of Chrysos- 
 tom we are considerably inc|ebte4 to Challoner's (Roman Cath- 
 olic) Fathers of the Desert, an4 Gibbon's Decline and Fall, l)e- 
 sides having carefully examined Socrates, So^omen, Theodoret^ 
 and others. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SIMEON STYLITES. 
 
 E will conclude our biographical sketches 
 of the Fathers of Church and Desert 
 with that of Simeon Stylites, who sur- 
 passed all others in the useless and painful abuse 
 of the body God gave him. The others we have 
 brought forward for your admiration and respect ; 
 Simeon we present to you only for your amuse- 
 ment and wonder. While we can, without hesita- 
 tion, pronounce him a religious fanatic, we can not 
 deny that he performed many of the most sur- 
 prising acts of painful self-denial He did not 
 stop at this, but was a real genius, and an inventor 
 of new and unheard-of modes of torture, which 
 he practiced upon himself Many incredible 
 things are told of him which are only traditionary 
 and legendary ; yet the general history of his life 
 is authenticated by contemporary writers, such as 
 Theodoret, Evagrius, and others, whom we can not 
 
 163 
 
164 THE LAST GLAD T A TOR ML SHOW. 
 
 doubt. Theodoret, the great historian, who un- 
 dertook, while Simeon was still living, to commit 
 to his manuscript a faithful account of this wonder 
 of the world, tells us that he is afraid that he shall 
 seem, to succeeding ages, to have delivered to 
 them a fabulous rather than a true history. This 
 prince of hermits was born, toward the close of 
 the fourth century, at Sisan, upon the confines of 
 Syria and Cilicia. In his youth he was a shep- 
 herd, and cared for his father's sheep. When 
 thirteen years old, he attended a church where 
 he heard a sermon from the text : " Blessed are 
 they that mourn." (Matt, v, 4.) Much affected 
 by it, he inquired of a friend what he should do. 
 Upon being advised to enter a monastery, he im- 
 mediately forsook his home, and went and pros- 
 trated himself at the gate of one situated in his 
 own neighborhood. After three days of fasting 
 and prostration, the abbot admitted him. Here he 
 remained about two years, practicing the most 
 severe penances and fasts, even surpassing the 
 oldest monks in humility. At the close of this 
 novitiate he went to the monastery of Teleda. 
 Here he began the practice of austerities that 
 well prepared him for the life of exposure he af- 
 terward lived. It is said of him that instead of 
 eating once a day, as did the other monks, he only 
 ate once a week. Having made a rope of palm 
 
MONKS. 165 
 
 leaves, so hard and impliable that it could scarcely 
 be handled, he tied it around his waist, under his 
 clothing, so tightly that it forced its way into the 
 flesh until it was almost covered. His suffering 
 he took the greatest precaution to conceal ; but it 
 was at last discovered by his fellows. The abbot 
 refused to allow him to practice such a self-tort- 
 ure, and, after no little difficulty, and the greatest 
 pain to Simeon, he succeeded in disengaging it 
 from the flesh. When he had served ten years in 
 this, his religious home, during which time he 
 had been saved a number of times from pious 
 suicide, he removed his residence to a mountain 
 about thirty or forty miles east of Antioch. On 
 the side of this mountain he made a hut, in which 
 he often continued fasting several days at a time. 
 One of the most incredible stories is recorded of 
 him while he dwelt in this hut. He conceived 
 the idea of fasting without taking any food during 
 the forty days of Lent. With this purpose in 
 mind he desired Bassus, the ecclesiastical superior 
 of that district^ to wall up the door of his cell, so 
 that he could not go out for food if he desired to. 
 Bassus remonstrated with him that, instead of 
 being an act of virtue, it would be a grievous 
 crime for him thus to endanger his life. He af- 
 terward brought ten loaves of bread and a pitcher 
 of water to Simeon, and then walled up the cell 
 
1 66 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 as he had desired. Forty days after the time 
 that he had thus imprisoned the fanatical saint 
 he returned, and, having opened the door, found 
 Simeon lying extended on the floor, as if he were 
 dead, with the ten loaves and water untouched. 
 Finding life still remaining in him, Bassus cared 
 for him until he was wholly restored. This fast 
 of forty da3^s, during Lent, without eating or 
 drinking any thing whatever, from this time for- 
 ward to the year of his death, he annually ob- 
 served. 
 
 The above story is, in our opinion, unreasona- 
 ble, although it is a tradition of the Romish 
 Church. We have not yet cultivated our credu- 
 lity sufficiently to believe it. Soon after this, our 
 anchoret ascended to the top of the mountain, and 
 there made for himself an inclosure of stones, 
 without any covering, in which he remained for 
 some years, taking no other nourishment than 
 boiled lentils and water, and, by means of a ponder- 
 ous chain, one end of which he fastened around his 
 right ankle, and the other to a great stone, he con- 
 fined himself to these narrow limits. The fame of 
 Simeon's sanctity became so universal that crowds 
 flocked to him daily, imploring his blessing. Their 
 numbers, which continued to increase, became a 
 great disturbance to him, and he determined to 
 build a pillar and live upon that. So, in the year 
 
MONKS. ■ 167 
 
 526, he erected one nine feet high, and ascended 
 it. This, by his own labor, and that of his friends, 
 was raised to eighteen feet, thirty-three feet, and 
 finally to sixty feet in height. "In this last and 
 lofty station the Syrian anchoret resisted the 
 heat of thirty Summers, and the cold of as many 
 Winters. Habit and exercise instructed him to 
 maintain his dangerous situation without fear or 
 giddiness, and successively to assume the different 
 postures of devotion. He sometimes prayed in 
 an erect attitude, with his arms outstretched in 
 the figure of a cross ; but his most familiar prac- 
 tice was that of bending his meager skeleton from 
 the forehead to the feet ; and a curious spectator, 
 after numbering twelve hundred and forty-four 
 repetitions, at length desisted from the endless 
 account. The progress of an ulcer in his thigh 
 might shorten, but it could not disturb, this celes- 
 tial life."* 
 
 He often remained for some length of time 
 bowed down with his forehead upon the pillar, 
 and this it is probable is the position in which he 
 slept, as tlie top of his aerial pedestal had not a 
 sufficient diameter to permit him to lie down. 
 Theodoret informs us that multitudes from all 
 quarters flocked to his pillar. From Britain to 
 Spain, from Gaul to Arabia they journeyed for 
 
 * Gibbon, chap, xxxvii. 
 
1 68 THE LAST GLADIAIVRIAL SHOW. 
 
 the purpose of claiming his benediction. Twice 
 each day he preached to them ; and the same 
 author, whose authority is unquestionable, tells us 
 that Simeon wrought great and evident miracles 
 in his presence. 
 
 Now, we are not prepared either to deny or af- 
 firm that miracles were wrought by God, through 
 human agency, after the times of the apostles. 
 If there were any, they must have been in re- 
 sponse to earnest prayer, and not by any power 
 deputed to the persons themselves, as was the 
 case with the apostles. God may have heard the 
 prayers of such righteous men as Simeon in these 
 times, who, though mistaken as to the manner in 
 which God is to be served, was sincere, even to 
 the sacrifice of the necessaries of a mere subsist- 
 ence. The apostle James has recorded (v, i6) : 
 " The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man 
 availeth much." 
 
 The Saracens came to Simeon in companies of 
 two and three hundred, and cast down their idols 
 at the foot of his pillar. They even disputed in 
 arms the honor of his benediction. Thousands 
 of heathen, as well as heretical Christians, were 
 converted by his wonderful preaching. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson, in his poem on St. Simeon, 
 has put this beautiful and modest speech in his 
 mouth : 
 
MONKS. 169 
 
 "Good people, you do ill to kneel to me; 
 "What is it I have done to merit this ? 
 I am a sinner viler than you all. 
 It may be I have wrought some miracles, 
 And cured some halt and maimed ; but what of that ? 
 It may be no one, even among the saints. 
 May match his pains with mine ; but what of that ? 
 Yet do not rise ; for you may look on me, 
 And, in your looking, .you may kneel to God. 
 Speak ! is there any of you halt or maimed ? 
 I think you know I have some power with heaven 
 From my long penance ; let him speak his wish. 
 Yes, I can heal him. Power goes forth from me, 
 They say that they are healed ; Ah, hark ! they shout 
 • St. Simeon Stylites.' Why, if so, 
 God reaps a harvest in me. O my soul, 
 God reaps a harvest in thee. If this be, 
 Can I work miracles and not be saved } 
 This is not told of any. They were saints. 
 It can not be but that I shall be saved ; 
 Yea, crowned a saint. They shout, ' Behold a saint !' 
 And lower voices saint me from above. 
 Courage, St. Simeon ! This dull chrysalis 
 Cracks into shining wings, and hope, ere death. 
 Spreads more, and more, and more, that God hath now 
 Sponged, and made blank of crimeful record, all 
 My mortal archives. 
 
 O my sons, my sons, 
 I, Simeon of the pillar, by surname 
 Stylites among men ; I, Simeon, 
 The watcher on the column till the end ; 
 I, Simeon, whose brain the sunshine bakes ; 
 I, whose bald brows in silent hours become 
 Unnaturally hoar with rime, do now, 
 From my high nest of penance, here proclaim 
 That Pontius and Iscariot, by niy side, 
 Show'd like fair seraphs. On the coals I lay, 
 A vessel full of sin : all hell beneath 
 Made me boil over." 
 
yo THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOIV. 
 
 *' God, only through his bounty, hath thought fit 
 To make me an example to mankind, 
 "Which few can reach to. Yet I do not say 
 But that a time may come — yea, even now, 
 Now, now his footsteps smite the threshold stairs 
 Of life — I say that time is at the doors 
 When you may worship me without reproach ; 
 For I will leave my relics in your land, 
 And you may carve a shrine about my dust, 
 And burn a fragrant lamp before my bones 
 When I am gathered to the glorious saints. 
 While I spake then, a sting of shrewdest pain 
 Ran shriveling through me, and a cloud-like change 
 In passing, with a grosser film, made thick 
 These heavy, horny eyes. The end ! the end ! 
 Surely the end ! What 's here ? a shape, a shade, 
 A flash of light. Is that the angel there 
 That holds a crown } Come, blessed brother, come. 
 I know thy glittering face. I waited long : 
 My brows are ready. What ! deny it now .'' 
 Nay, draw, draw nigh. So, I clutch it. Christ ! 
 'T is gone : 't is here again : the crown ! the crown ! 
 So how 't is fitted on, and grows to me, 
 And from it melt the dews of Paradise, 
 Sweet ! sweet ! spikenard, and balm, and frankincense. 
 Ah ! let me not be fool'd, sweet saints : I trust 
 That I am whole, and clean, and meet for heaven. 
 Speak, if there be a priest, a man of God, 
 Among you there, and let him presently 
 Approach, and lean a ladder on the shaft, 
 And climbing up into my airy home, 
 Deliver me the blessed sacrament ; 
 For by the warning of the Holy Ghost 
 I prophesy that I shall die to-night, 
 A quarter before twelve. 
 
 But thou, O Lord, 
 Aid all this foolish people ; let them take 
 Example, pattern : lead them to thy light." 
 
MONKS. \yi 
 
 Whether Simeon died that night is uncertain, 
 and, if he did, this nicely wrought poetical proph- 
 ecy was not heeded, for he remained dead two 
 days before the calamity was discovered. He was 
 observed by the multitude who waited his exhor- 
 tation and blessing to be in a kneeling position, 
 with his head down. They supposed that he 
 was continuing in prayer, as he sometimes did, 
 during the entire day. The day of his death was 
 on a Friday, and it was the following Sunday af- 
 ternoon that his disciple, Antonius, ascended the 
 pillar by means of a ladder, and discovered that 
 he was dead. Antonius immediately descended, 
 and gave notice, privately, to the patriarch of An- 
 tioch and the governor of the province. The 
 Archbishop, in company with the Master-General 
 of the East, six bishops, twenty-one counts, or 
 tribunes, and six thousand soldiers, transported 
 his remains in solemn procession from the mount- 
 ain of Teleuissa to Antioch, and that city "re- 
 vered his bones as her glorious ornament and im- 
 pregnable defense." 
 
 Thus much for Simeon Stylites. Peace be to 
 his ashes! His life was noble, in its way; but 
 God is a spirit, and they who worship him, must 
 worship him in spirit and in truth. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS ON MONASTICISM. 
 
 FTER having followed the lives of some 
 of the most prominent monks, it is hardly 
 necessary for us to say much as to their 
 manner of living. A few observations, however, 
 may not be out of place. 
 
 In a previous chapter, we have given the cause 
 of the foundation of monasticism. The desert 
 was the only security from the evil and tempta- 
 tions to which an earnest and sincere Christian 
 was subject. "Thither had they fled out of cities, 
 compared with which Paris is earnest and Gomor- 
 rah chaste — out of a rotten, infernal, dying world 
 of tyrants and slaves, hypocrites and wantons — 
 to ponder undisturbed on duty, and on judgment, 
 on death and eternity, heaven and hell ; to find a 
 common creed, a common interest, a common 
 hope, common duties, pleasures, and sorrows. 
 True, they had, many of them, fled from the post 
 172 
 
MONKS. 173 
 
 where God had placed them, when they fled from 
 man into the Thebiad waste."* Egypt was cer- 
 tainly the home of the monks, and that people glo- 
 ried in the marvelous revolution that had taken 
 place in their land, and even were proud to boast 
 that the number of the monks was equal to the 
 remainder of the people. The vows taken by the 
 fugitive from sin, upon his entrance into religious 
 exile, were obedience, poverty, and chastity. The 
 first was tested by some absurd and frequently 
 almost criminal trial by the capricious abbot. He 
 very frequently commanded the penitents to jump 
 from windows, and then caught them as they were 
 in the act of fulfilling the command. " They were 
 directed to remove an enormous rock ; assiduously 
 to water a barren staff, that was planted in the 
 ground, till at the end of three years it should 
 vegetate and blossom like a tree ; to walk into a 
 fiery furnace ; or to cast their infant into a deep 
 pond ; and several saints, or madmen, have been 
 immortalized in monastic story by their thought- 
 less and fearless obedience." 
 
 The dress of a monk varied in different coun- 
 tries. Those of Egypt wore only a ragged sheep- 
 skin, bound around the body by a belt, or girdle, 
 and strapped over the shoulders. This left the 
 lower limbs entirely bare, and no sandals were 
 
 * Charles Kingsley, jr., (TTypatia, chap. i). 
 
174 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 worn, except in Winter. The head, from which 
 the hair had been cut closely, or shaven, was 
 wrapped in a cowl, to prevent the observation of 
 profane objects. This was only worn when they 
 were absent from their cell. A long staff com- 
 pleted the scanty outfit of these lords of the des- 
 ert. The ancient monasteries were usually a 
 number of rude cells constructed of the slightest 
 material sometimes, and sometimes of stone. 
 These were built in regular order, so as to give 
 the appearance of a village, with streets and a 
 wall. Within this wall, all the huts were in- 
 closed ; also, a church, a hospital, a garden, and a 
 fountain, or a spring of water. They usually slept 
 on the hard floor of their respective cells, and the 
 same bundle of palm leaves which served for a 
 seat during the day served also as a pillow at night. 
 The gardens and fields which they rescued from 
 the sands of the desert were the result of the se- 
 verest toil. They conveyed soil upon their shoul- 
 ders from the banks of the Nile, and spread it out 
 upon the burning, barren waste to a sufficient 
 depth to hold moisture. Through these gardens 
 they dug a ditch in which a stream ran from the 
 river, often for miles. By their constant care, 
 these little artificial oases became as fertile as the 
 plains of lower Egypt. Besides the cultivation 
 of their common garden, from which the common 
 
A MONK OF THE DESERT, 
 
MONKS. 175 
 
 supply of the monastery was procured, they spent 
 their time in the exercise of the several trades 
 that were necessary to provide for their w^ants 
 wdiich could not be supplied by the produce of 
 the soil. Day after day, and week after week they 
 sat silently weaving palm leaves into mats or 
 baskets. The wooden sandals, worn by the com- 
 mon people of the numerous Egyptian cities, were 
 manufactured by the monks. "The superfluous 
 stock, which was not consumed in domestic use, 
 supplied by trade the wants of the community ; 
 the boats of Tabenna, and the other monasteries 
 of Thebais, descended the Nile as far as Alexan- 
 dria, and, in a Christian market, the sanctity of 
 the workman might enhance the intrinsic value 
 of the work." 
 
 The life of the monk was one of constant wor- 
 ship. He was not even allowed, by the rules of 
 the institution of which he was a member, to 
 think of any thing else but heaven, his own sin, 
 and the judgment. The whole community of 
 monks were assembled twice every twenty-four 
 hours for worship in the chapel. This public 
 worship was conducted in the evening about sun- 
 set, and again at midnight. The precise moment 
 of this nocturnal devotion was determined by an 
 observer who carefully watched the planets always 
 visible in that cloudless Southern sky. The faitli- 
 
176 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 fill devotees were aroused from their slumber by 
 the blast of a rustic horn, or trumpet, that twice 
 each day disturbed the else unbroken silence of the 
 desert. , They seldom left their monastery alone. 
 Two always went together to watch each other's 
 actions, and when they returned they were com- 
 manded to forget, or at least keep perfectly silent 
 about what they had seen or heard, except in the 
 presence of the abbot or some of the elder monks. 
 ** The monastic slave might not receive the visits 
 of his friends or kindred, and it was deemed highly 
 meritorious if he afflicted a tender sister or an 
 aged parent by the obstinate refusal of a word or 
 look." (Gibbon.) Probably the strictest com- 
 mand that was enforced in many of the monas- 
 teries, especially upon young monks, was that 
 they should never look at a woman. Pior, an 
 Egyptian monk, allowed his sister to see him, but 
 he shut his eyes during the whole visit. 
 
 We have not mentioned this subject until now 
 in order that we might speak of it more particu- 
 larly. We know no better illustration on this 
 subject of monastic rigidity than that found in the 
 first chapter of Kingsley's Hypatia. The scene 
 at which the conversation noted below took place 
 was the Laura of Abbot Pambo at Scetis, some 
 three hundred miles above Alexandria. A young 
 monk, Philammon by name, who had lost his par- 
 
MONKS. 177 
 
 ents in his childhood, and had been raised by the 
 venerable abbot, was sent in search of fuel, which 
 was becoming quite scarce in that vicinity. He 
 had wandered far and gathered but little, until go- 
 ing a little beyond his usual ramble he turned a 
 pass in the glen. Suddenly he saw a temple in 
 the sand-stone cliff, and in front a plain strewn 
 with timbers and tools, that were originally used 
 in the erection of that grand monument to "the 
 grave of a dead nation in a dying land." The ab- 
 bot had forbidden him from childhood ever to look 
 into one of these ruined vestiges of heathendom ; 
 but temptation led him on, and, as he looked, he 
 saw the magnificent statuary wrought in marble, 
 pillar after pillar and vista after vista, and on the 
 walls, in crimson and blue, the pictures of tri- 
 umphs — ladies, the first he had ever seen, their 
 heads crowned with garlands, and children play- 
 ing by the slaves who nursed them, and dancing 
 girls in transparent robes and golden girdles — a 
 scene wonderfully strange to our young monk. 
 His soliloquy we have not space to notice, but we 
 will observe what transpires upon his return to 
 the friendly Laura. 
 
 "* Thou art late, son,' said the abbot, steadfastly 
 working away at his palm basket, as Philammon 
 approached. 
 
 "'Fuel is scarce, and I was forced to go far.' 
 12 
 
I yS THE LAST GLAD I A TO RIAL SHO W, 
 
 "'A monk should not answer till he is ques- 
 tioned. I did not ask the reason. Where didst 
 thou find that wood?' 
 
 "'Before the temple, far up the glen/ 
 " ' The temple ! What didst thou see there ?' 
 " No answer. Pambo looked up with his keen, 
 black eyes. * Thou hast entered it, and lusted 
 after its abominations.' 
 
 " ' I — I did not enter ; but I looked ' 
 
 " ' And what didst thou see t Women V 
 " Philammon was silent. 
 
 " * Have I not bidden you never look on the face 
 of a woman .? Are they not the first-fruits of the 
 devil, the authors of all evil, the subtlest of all 
 Satan's snares } Are they not accursed forever 
 for the deceit of their first mother, by whom sin 
 entered into the world .^ A woman first opened 
 the gates of hell, and, until this day, they are the 
 portresses thereof. Unhappy boy, what hast thou 
 done !' 
 
 " ' They were but painted on the walls.' 
 " ' Ah !' said the abbot, as if suddenly relieved 
 of a heavy burden. * But how knewest thou them 
 to be women, when thou hast never yet, unless 
 thou liest— which I believe not of thee — seen the 
 face of a daughter of Eve ?' 
 
 " ' Perhaps— perhaps,' said Philammon, as if sud- 
 denly relieved by a new suggestion — 'perhaps 
 
MONKS. 179 
 
 they were only devils. They must have been, I 
 think, for they were so very beautiful !' 
 
 " * Ah ! how knowest thou that devils are beau- 
 tiful?' 
 
 " * I was launching the boat a week ago, with fa- 
 ther Anfugus ; and, on the bank — not very near — 
 there were two creatures — with long hair, and 
 striped all over the lower part of their bodies with 
 black, and red, and yellow — and they gathered 
 flowers on the shore. Father Anfugus turned 
 away ; but I — I could not help thinking them the 
 most beautiful things that I had ever seen — so 
 I asked him why he turned away ; and he said 
 that those were the same sort of devils which 
 tempted the blessed St. Anthony. Then I re- 
 called having heard it read aloud how Satan 
 tempted Anthony in the shape of a beautiful 
 woman — and so — and so — those figures on the 
 wall were very like — and I thought they might 
 be — .* And the poor boy, who considered that he 
 was making confession of a deadly and shameful 
 crime, blushed scarlet, and stammered, and at last 
 stopped. 
 
 "'And thou thoughtest them beautiful.'' O, 
 utter corruption of the flesh ! O, subtlety of Sa- 
 tan ! The Lord forgive thee, as I do, my poor 
 child ; henceforth thou goest not beyond the gar- 
 den walls.' 
 
1 80 THE LAST GLADIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 "'Not beyond the walls! Impossible! I can 
 not! If thou wert not my father I would say, I 
 will not ! I must have liberty ! I must see for 
 myself; I must judge for myself what this world 
 is, of which you talk so bitterly. I long for no 
 pomps and vanities. I will promise you this mo- 
 ment, if you will, never to re-enter a heathen 
 temple — to hide my face in the dust whenever I 
 approach a woman ; but I must, I must see the 
 world ; I must see the great Mother Church in 
 Alexandria, and the patriarch and his clergy. ' If 
 they can serve God in the city, why not \} I 
 could do more for God there than here.' . . 
 
 " Desperately and breathlessly did Philammon 
 drive this speech out of his inmost heart, and 
 then waited, expecting the good abbot to strike 
 him on the spot. If he had, the young man 
 would have submitted patiently; so would any 
 man, however venerable, in that monastery. . . 
 
 . . Why not t Duly, after long companion- 
 ship, thought, and prayer, they had elected Pambo 
 for their abbot, abba, father — the wisest, eldest 
 hearted and headed of them. If he was that, it 
 was time he should be obeyed. . . . And 
 obeyed he was, with a royal, reasonable love, and 
 with an implicit, soldier-like obedience, which 
 many a king and conqueror might envy. Were 
 they cowards and slaves '^. The Roman legion- 
 
MONKS. l8l 
 
 aries should be good judges on that point. . . 
 They used to say that no armed barbarian, Goth 
 or Vandal, Moor or Spaniard, was so terrible as 
 the unarmed monk of the Thebais. 
 
 " Twice the old man lifted his staff to strike ; 
 twice he laid it down again ; and then slowly 
 rising, left Philammon kneeling there, and moved 
 away deliberately, and with eyes fixed on the 
 ground, to the house of the brother Anfugus. 
 
 " ' The Lord's voice be obeyed !' (said the Father 
 Anfugus to Philammon.) 'Thou shalt go! Here 
 are letters to Cyril the patriarch. He will love 
 thee for my sake, and for thine own sake too, I 
 trust. Thou goest of our free will, as well as 
 thine own. The abbot and I have watched thee 
 long, knowing that the Lord had need of such 
 as thee elsewhere. We did but prove thee, to 
 see by thy readiness to obey whether thou wert 
 fit to rule. Go ; God be with thee. Covet no 
 man's gold or silver. Neither eat flesh nor drink 
 wine, but live as thou hast lived — a Nazarite of 
 the Lord. Fear not the face of man ; but look 
 not upon the face of a woman. In an evil hour 
 came they into the world, the mothers of all mis- 
 chiefs which I have seen under the sun. Come ; 
 the abbot waits for us at the gate.' " 
 
 It is unnecessary for us to follow Philammon 
 
1 82 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SIIO W. 
 
 further. We have had more than enough already 
 of this conversation to give us a fair idea of the 
 unnatural principles that were the foundation 
 stones of Monasticism. Monasteries were founded 
 for women almost as soon as those for men, and 
 thousands flocked to their solitude. The noble 
 Roman matron, as well as the maid, left home, 
 and friends, and fortune, to become the ^^ spouse 
 of Christ," as they were profanely termed. The 
 wives of Senators forsook their magnificent pal- 
 aces and villas, and sold their treasures, in order 
 that they might raise up to their memory a 
 sacred monument in the desert. Many did it 
 from worldly desires and temptations, to acquire 
 public fame. Malina, who sold all her silver-plate, 
 weighing three hundred pounds, and presented it 
 to one of the venerable abbots of Egypt, received 
 an appropriate rebuke from the humble father 
 who welcomed his visitor, but took no notice of 
 the present she gave him. She, feeling uneasy 
 lest he might not know the value of her silver, 
 and the worthiness of her gift, took special care 
 to acquaint the abbot with its weight. " Do you 
 offer it to me or to God T said he. " If to God, 
 He who suspends the mountains in a balance 
 needs not to be informed of the weight of your 
 plate." 
 
 Dear reader, it is our happy fortune to be 
 
MONKS, 183 
 
 obliged to leave the consideration and observation 
 of the development of this grand, but mistaken 
 system, before we behold its degeneracy ; for, 
 with the dawn of the fifth century, the purity, and 
 luster that shone from these oases in the desert, 
 these light-houses on a barren coast, gradually 
 died away, and in later ages we can only liken 
 their shadow to that of outer darkness. 
 
 Truly a great change had taken place in only 
 four hundred years, and difficult, indeed, would 
 it be for us to ascribe a revolution, in which the 
 philosophic writings of Cicero were to be super- 
 seded by the sacred legends of Theodoret, and 
 the character and life of Simeon to far eclipse 
 that of Cato, to any other than a Divine agency, 
 the work of a Divine hand. Soon the monas- 
 teries, that had been the redemption of a great 
 part of the race from the vice and corruption of 
 the world, became infected with the same disease 
 they were intended to shut out. Personal and 
 selfish motives " filled them with a crowd of ob- 
 scure and abject plebeians, who gained in the 
 cloister much more than they had sacrificed in 
 the world. Peasants, slaves, and mechanics mifrht 
 escape from poverty and contempt to a safe and 
 honorable profession, whose apparent hardships 
 were mitigated by custom, by popular applause, 
 and by the secret relaxation of discipline. The 
 
1 84 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 subjects of Rome, whose persons and fortunes 
 were made responsible for unequal and exhor- 
 bitant tributes, retired from the oppression of 
 the Imperial Government ; and the pusillanimous 
 youth preferred the penance of a monastic to the 
 dangers of a military life. The affrighted pro- 
 vincials of every rank, who fled before the bar- 
 barians, found shelter and subsistence ; whole 
 legions were buried in these religious sanctuaries ; 
 and the same course which relieved the distress 
 of individuals, impaired the strength and fortitude 
 of the Empire." 
 
 The monk, who had been the very example of 
 humility, now became the rude savage or the 
 corrupt minister of a pure dispensation. Of all 
 others the Nitrian monks were the most savage 
 and uncivilized. From the great quarries and 
 sand-heaps they came down to Alexandria, and 
 infested its streets, until they had to be dealt 
 with by the legionaries as if they were the com- 
 mon disturbers, not only of public quiet, but of 
 public safety. That turbulent metropolis, which 
 was ready to boil over in a minute, was easily ex- 
 cited by the midnight procession of the fiery 
 bishop and his army of desperate and fanatical 
 monks ; and not unfrequently did an enraged 
 bishop, who had degenerated from the virtue of 
 his predecessors lead forth his band of savages 
 
MONKS. 185 
 
 to a midnight chastisement of either Jews or 
 heathens. But of all the evils growing out of this 
 once pure soil, the superstitious belief in miracles 
 said to be wrought by these " favorites of heaven," 
 is the most obnoxious. They are reported to have 
 cured inveterate diseases by a touch, a word, or a 
 distant message. One of the old historians ex- 
 presses the degree of reverence in which he holds 
 the monks of Egypt, but "insults them with the 
 remark that tJiey never raised the dead ; whereas 
 the Bishop of Tours had restored three dead men 
 to life." Stories the most preposterous imagin- 
 able, of miracles performed, not only by living 
 monks, but by the relics of these dead saints, 
 were presented to a credulous and superstitious 
 people. 
 
 In the worship of the lives and miracles, and 
 relics of the martyrs, and innumerable canonized 
 saints, not only the grand lives and genuine mir- 
 acles of the apostles were lost sight of, but the 
 life and labors, the sorrows, and wonderful mira- 
 cles of the Master himself were hidden in the 
 multitude of supernatural wonders said to have 
 been performed by mere men. And they were 
 thus led to picture the Redeemer of mankind, in 
 their venerative fancies, as one who was afar off, 
 inaccessible, and unapproachable, except through 
 the intercession of these saints, whom they de- 
 
1 86 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 voutly reverenced. The result is easily discovered 
 in the worship of the Virgin Mary. It seems to 
 have been forgotten altogether by them that Jesus 
 alone is our intercessor, who pleadeth for us with 
 groanings that can not be uttered. 
 
 With these few remarks we close the second 
 division. We have shown you the Gladiator and 
 the Monk — two characters as opposite as ever 
 lived on the face of the earth at the same time. 
 The contrast between them we leave for you to 
 draw. The account of Telemachus, the monk, 
 as well as the last Gladiatorial Show, we reserve 
 for a future chapter. 
 
Part III. 
 THE GOTHIC WAR, 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR, 
 
 AND THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE GOTHS. 
 
 T is now our duty to pass from the his- 
 tory of the ministers of peace to that 
 of the stern heroes of a warhke race. 
 Before entering upon this division of our subject 
 let us inquire into the early national life of that 
 race of giants who afterward broke the Roman 
 power, sacked the capital, and reigned in Gaul, 
 Spain, and Italy. The great Scandinavian pen- 
 insula, thirteen hundred miles farther north than 
 the capital of our country, history assigns as the 
 father-land of the Goths. Although a people 
 whose native honor would lead them to scorn the 
 barbarities of the gladiatorial combat, it is a 
 
 189 
 
190 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 remarkable coincidence that their histories begin 
 together. Back to the 250th year B. C. is as far 
 as we can trace them ; but truly we find a race 
 such as the world has never known beside them. 
 The rigidity of their Northern climates engen- 
 dered the warlike spirit for which they were noted. 
 The chief employment of the Goths was rather 
 the hunt than the chase, for, instead of timid deer 
 for their prey, their savage antagonist was usually 
 the grizzly bear of the mountains or the wild 
 boar of the forest. Inured to hardships from 
 their youth, these barbarians, whose culture was 
 a practice in the skillful use of the sword, found 
 little pleasure except in casting the javelin, level- 
 ing the spear, and riding the war horse. It ap- 
 pears that love of conquest led the Goths to for- 
 sake the land of their nativity, to cross the Baltic, 
 and seek a temporary home along the shores of 
 the Black Sea. When this migration took place 
 we can not say, as they seem to have disappeared 
 from history for a time, in order that they might 
 figure the more brilliantly upon their re-appear- 
 ance on a grander stage of action. 
 
 Soon after the beginning of the third century 
 they were encountered by the Emperor Caracal] a. 
 In 244 they conquered the provinces of Dacia and 
 Thrace, and, six years later, destroyed the whole 
 Roman army, and killed the Emperor Decius in 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 191 
 
 battle. The Goths were the avowed enemies of 
 the Romans ; so much so that .we may almost be 
 warranted in saying God had raised them up for 
 the destruction of the Imperial city. 
 
 How true this may be we are not prepared to 
 say ; but we find them harassing the legions of 
 the Empire, and making inroads upon its terri- 
 tory, and sacking its cities, up to the year 367, 
 when, at their own request, the Emperor allowed 
 a million of them to cross the Danube and settle 
 within the Empire. Some time previous to this 
 they had divided into two nations, known as the 
 Ostrogoths (East Goths) and the Visigoths (West 
 Goths). The Visigoths alone were permitted to 
 cross the Danube. The Ostrogoths soon after- 
 ward came with the same request, but were re- 
 fused — it not being deemed safe by the Senate to 
 allow the settlement of so many barbarian war- 
 riors within the Empire. The inhuman treat- 
 ment received by the Visigoths at the hands of 
 the Romans, soon aroused not only their worthy 
 indignation, but their hatred of oppression, which 
 resulted in a three years' war, and the terrible 
 battle of Adrianople, where the Emperor Valens 
 lost his life. They then proceeded Northward, 
 and chose the Julian Alps for their settlement. 
 From these fastnesses they occasionally sallied 
 forth to plunder the adjoining provinces. The 
 
192 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Government, however, finding that it was impos- 
 sible to subdue these formidable barbarians, at 
 last formed a plan of winning them over, and 
 amalgamating whole swarms of Goths, who en- 
 tered the Imperial armies, and were of consider- 
 able service. Their already great nation was 
 constantly increased by the arrival of kindred 
 tribes from the North, The Ostrogoths, who 
 were denied their request to settle within the 
 Empire, enforced that request by the use of arms, 
 in which they proved successful. The Goths 
 generally were of gigantic stature, and so bold 
 and entirely fearless in battle, that they became 
 the terror of the terrible Roman legions. Their 
 massive armor was impenetrable by the Roman 
 lances, and their heavy swords, the pride and 
 strength of their nation, readily shattered in pieces 
 the helmets and breastplates of the legionaries. 
 Their women were as noble and heroic as they — 
 the mothers of a bold and heroic race — and it 
 was not until the Goths had intermarried with 
 the degenerate Romans that they lost their valor. 
 The religion of the Goths, of course, was pa- 
 ganistic. They had no means of accepting any 
 other than that which they manufactured them- 
 selves. Their God was called Odin, who was 
 said to reside at Asgard. Who Odin was, or 
 where Asgard, his sacred city, was situated, is a 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 
 
 193 
 
 mystery. However, more than one beautiful 
 legend is told of him. Odin is said to have mi- 
 grated from the East, but from what country, or 
 what people, is not certainly known. His achieve- 
 ments are magnified beyond all credibility. He 
 is represented as the god of battles, and as 
 slaughtering thousands at a blow. At the city 
 of Asgard he is said to have three palaces. The 
 first is his great council chamber. From the top 
 of -the second he could see the whole world ; and 
 the third is called Valhalla, in which, according 
 to the legend, the souls of heroes who had bravely 
 fallen in battle, enjoy supreme felicity. They 
 spend the day in mimic hunting matches or im- 
 aginary combats. 
 
 At night they assemble in the palace of Val- 
 halla, where they feast on the most, delicious 
 viands, dressed and served up by maidens adorned 
 with celestial charms, and flushed with the bloom 
 of everlasting youth. They solace themselves 
 with drinking nectar out of the skulls of their 
 enemies, whom they had killed in their days of 
 nature. Although Odin was their God, yet he 
 was not destined to live always ; but should die 
 and the whole world would perish with him. It 
 was for fear that he would be killed by the evil 
 one, or some of his angels, that these old heroes 
 were said to assemble around him. Besides these 
 13 
 
1 94 THE LAST GLADIA TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 precautions, when he went out of his palace he 
 was guarded by a knight on each side, who rode a 
 swift horse, and carried a two-edged sword, and a 
 spear that never missed its aim. It was the con- 
 stant care of Odin and his martial companions to 
 protect the world from inward commotions, and 
 any disaster that might befall it, as all were 
 doomed to perish together. 
 
 " But," the legend adds, " neither Odin himself, 
 nor all his warriors, will be able to save him and 
 the world from final destruction." We think that 
 this last passage explains the tale as giving a 
 beautiful description and personification of time. 
 The Bible of the Goths was called the Voluspa. 
 While only about three hundred lines in length, it 
 declares that it reveals the works of the Father 
 of Nature. This mysterious book begins with a 
 description of the chaos, and then proceeds to the 
 formation of the world, and the creation of the 
 different species of its inhabitants — giants, men^ 
 and dwarfs. It then explains the employment of 
 the fairies, whom the Northern people call nor- 
 nieSy and concludes with a long and striking ac- 
 count of the final state of the universe and its 
 dissolution by a general conflagration. In this 
 catastrophe, Odin, and all the rabble of the pagan 
 divinities are to be confounded in the general ruin, 
 no more to appear on the stage of the universe; 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 1 95 
 
 and, out of the ruins of the former world, accord- 
 ing to the Voluspa, a new one shall spring up, ar- 
 rayed in all the bloom of celestial beauty. There 
 is a remarkable correspondence in the order, and 
 even in the statement of the facts contained in 
 this strange book, when compared with the ac- 
 counts in our own Bible. The chaos, the crea- 
 tion, and the final destruction of the world by 
 fire are strangely similar. It was generally be- 
 lieved by the Goths that, if they should succeed 
 in reaching Asgard, they would be permitted to 
 reign with Odin, so long as the world stood. This 
 may have been one of the reasons for their migra- 
 tion. If so, no people were ever truer to their be- 
 liefs and convictions than they; for they carried 
 their irresistible arms across the continent into 
 Italy, and Gaul, and Spain; and parties of Goths, 
 conducted by a heroic leader, vainly sought their 
 celestial city up the Nile, that river of fables. 
 This great nation, notwithstanding the beautiful 
 myth of their heroic religion, accepted the much 
 more touching story of Christianity with more 
 readiness than did the enlightened Greek or Ro- 
 man. The Gothic bishop, Ulphilas, who lived 
 about the middle of the fourth century, probably 
 did more than any other prelate to convert his 
 people. 
 
 His success was very marked, for he succeeded 
 
ig6 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 in bringing over the majority of the Goths to the 
 Christian faith. Ulphilas invented a Gothic al- 
 phabet, and, having accomplished that, translated 
 portions of the Bible into their language. The 
 books of the Old Testament, containing the his- 
 tory of the Jewish wars, he did not translate, as 
 he feared to foster and encourage their warlike 
 spirit by these sacred annals. The similarity be- 
 tween the Gothic language and some of the Ger- 
 man dialects is quite marked ; and, for the gratifi- 
 cation of your curiosity, we here quote the Lord's 
 Prayer, from the Bible of Ulphilas, and give a 
 literal translation of the words in their regular 
 order : 
 
 Atta unsar thu in himinam, weihnai namo tliein. Quimai thiudi 
 Father our thou in heaven, hallowed name thi7ie. Come king 
 nassus theiiis. Wairthai wilja theins, swe in himina jah ana airthai 
 (lom thine. Be done zvill thine, as in heaven as on earth 
 Hlaif unsarana thana sin-teinan give uns himmadaga 
 
 Bread our the perpetual, or daily, give us to-day. 
 
 Jah aflet uns thatei skulans sijaima, swaswe jah weis afle 
 And forgive ns what guilty ive are, as also we for 
 
 tarn tliaim skiilam unsaraim. Jah ni briggais uns in fraistu 
 give the trespassers ours. And not bring ns into ieinpta 
 bujai, ak lausei uns af thamma ubilin, unte theiiia ist Ihiudan 
 Hon, but deliver us of the evil, for thine is king- 
 gardi jah maths jah vviiltus in aiwins. Amen. 
 dom and 7night and glory for ever. Amen. 
 
 The royal line of kings, who ruled this devoted 
 people, w^ere termed the Amali. They claimed to 
 have sprung from Odin, and, in fact, were consid- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 1 97 
 
 ered half divine by their faithful subjects. It is 
 said that they were a race of giants of extraordi- 
 nary stature. Their gigantic frame and powerful 
 arm naturally made them the leaders in battle. 
 When an Amal died, his successor was elevated 
 on a shield, and borne on the shoulders of his 
 people, as a token of their fealty. No people 
 were ever truer to their sovereign than were the 
 Goths. His word was supreme law, and no one 
 for a moment questioned the justice of his decis- 
 ions. Their Amal was almost the object, not 
 only of their love, but their devotion ; and to this 
 fact they owed their invincible power as much as 
 to their personal prowess. Their natural honor 
 raised them far above the level of barbarians. 
 Their minds seemed to be as superior as their 
 bodies, and literature soon became the delight of 
 those of them who were nearly associated with 
 the Greeks. 
 
 But all the civilization to which they were 
 brought, and all the culture they acquired, never 
 smothered the martial spirit that slumbered in 
 their bosom, which needed only to be fed by the 
 hot blood that ran in their veins. Strong in 
 body, broad in mind, and large of soul, this race 
 was well calculated to make the great and lasting 
 changes in the history of nations that it accom- 
 plished. The Goths made not only good warriors, 
 
198 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 but good Christians ; and, having formed such an 
 agreeable acquaintance with the Christian Goths, 
 we will be much better prepared to admire their 
 bold and renowned chieftain, Alaric, who sacked 
 the city of Rome. 
 
 Note. — On the subject of this chapter, see Pinkerton's Goths, 
 Gibbon's Rome, The Encyclopedia Britannica, and Vollmer's 
 Vollstandiges Worterbuch der Mythologie aller Nationen. 
 

 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ALARIC AND THE RISING OF THE GOTHS. 
 
 N the month of January, 395 (A. D.), the 
 great Theodosius, who, by his unusual 
 abilities, had supported the moldering 
 edifice of the Empire, died. Arcadius and Hono- 
 rius, the two sons of the deceased Emperor, re- 
 ceived the vast domain of their father together. 
 Arcadius reigned in the East at Constantinople, 
 and Honorius in the West at Rome. It would 
 be difficult to say which was the weaker and 
 more imbecile of the two — probably Arcadius. 
 As it is, we have most to do with Honorius, and, 
 by the time we have become familiar with his in- 
 ability to rule, we will be fully able to judge of Ar- 
 cadius. Honorius possessed neither passions nor 
 talents. In his youth he made but little progress 
 in exercises of riding or drawing the bow. Too 
 indolent to follow these manly sports, he retired 
 to the luxury .of the palace, and, as monarch of 
 the West, he found opportunity for the exercise 
 
 199 
 
2 OO THE LAST G LABIA TORIA L SHO W 
 
 of his puerile and childish propensities in feeding 
 poultry, which became his daily employment and 
 delight. His predecessors had, by their presence 
 in the camp and the most distant provinces, in- 
 spired the devoted soldiery to deeds of valor, and 
 won the love of loyal subjects. But the young 
 Emperor shut himself up, almost a prisoner, in 
 his palace, and was almost as unknown to his sub- 
 jects as were some of the equally worthless cour- 
 tiers who shared his luxury. 
 
 Far different was the character of his able gen- 
 eral, Stilicho, into whose firm and skillful hands 
 he had resigned the reins of government. Stili- 
 cho traced his ancestry back to the bold and per- 
 fidious race of Vandals. His father was an officer 
 in the barbarian cavalry in the service of Valens. 
 "In his youth, he embraced the profession of 
 arms. His prudence and valor were soon distin- 
 guished in the field, and the horsemen and archers 
 of the East admired his superior dexterity." He 
 has been described by a historian as surpassing 
 the measure of the demi-gods of antiquity in his 
 strength and stature. While a private citizen, 
 whenever he walked through the streets of the 
 capital the astonished crowd made room for the 
 stranger, whose mien and bearing was that of a 
 hero. 
 
 The sagacious and intrepid Stilicho rose from 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 201 
 
 master of the horse to count of the domestics, 
 and from that to the supreme rank of master-gen- 
 eral of the armies of the Western Empire. 
 
 His physical strength was indicative also of his 
 strength of character. He was none less than a 
 noble and virtuous Christian. We are informed 
 that, on his voyage to Africa, with a fleet and army 
 for the chastisement of the rebellious Gildo, he 
 spent his days and nights in fasting and prayer, and 
 singing psalms. Confident of success, and trust- 
 ing in God, his faith was rewarded by a speedy vic- 
 tory, and Africa was again restored in peace to the 
 numerous possessions of the unworthy Emperor. 
 
 It was very fortunate that in this time of abso- 
 lute need the Roman world found so able a de- 
 fender. Arcadius, who might have enjoyed the 
 profitable and able statesmanship of Stilicho, as 
 well as his brother, refused it, and was induced, 
 through the advice of his envious and scheming 
 favorites, to go so far as to declare his would-be 
 friend a public enemy. With this glimpse at the 
 condition of government, we return to our friends 
 the Goths. 
 
 On a cold, wintery morning, soon after the death 
 of the great Theodosius, the war-trimipet of the 
 Goths sounded far and near across the plains of 
 Thrace. Every chieftain of every clan seized his 
 horn, and blew a long, loud blast that was soon 
 
202 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 after re-echoed by his neighbor. At the sound 
 of war the . peasant left his farm, the woodman 
 his ax, the shepherd his flocks, and all gladly 
 seized the arms they had recently been compelled 
 to lay down. Loudly and fiercely the war-cry 
 rang from the woody shores of Dalmatia — over 
 the mountains and across the plains, until it 
 aroused the cowardly Arcadius in his palace at 
 Constantinople. 
 
 The hour had come when this people, who had 
 been repeatedly wronged, should be avenged ; and 
 upon whom else should it be but upon him who 
 had last wronged them t By their last treaty with 
 the Empire they were assured a certain subsidy, 
 as a support, as well as a reward to their troops, 
 for acting as auxiliaries. Arcadius, who lacked 
 the prudence, as well as the brains of his father, 
 had, either through his own neglect, or by the 
 treachery of his minister, allowed the discontinu- 
 ance or diminution of these supplies. 
 
 The auxiliaries immediately erected the Gothic 
 standard ; and under it all the troops who gloried 
 in the Gothic name rallied. They did not enter 
 the conflict alone, but gathered to their ranks the 
 Northern nations across the Danube. The sav- 
 age warriors of Dacia issued from their intermin- 
 able forests, and crossed over into Thrace. So 
 severe was the Winter that the poet has remarked. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 203 
 
 "that they rolled their ponderous wagons over 
 the icy back of the indignant river." The revolt 
 of the Goths was this time to a purpose. The 
 wrongs they had endured from time to time had 
 become unbearable. The calm determination 
 with which their bold and able leader directed 
 their movements and wielded their undisciplined 
 hordes, displayed remarkable generalship — such 
 as had never before been exhibited by any of their 
 passionate chiefs. 
 
 Alaric, whom we well might surname the Bold, 
 was the military genius of his age. History men- 
 tions only one comparable with him while Rome 
 flourished — that was Hannibal. Alaric " was de- 
 scended from the noble race of the Balti, which 
 yielded only to the royal dignity of the Amali." 
 The illustrious race of the Baltic or Bold^ long 
 continued to flourish in France. 
 
 Our Gothic hero possessed traits of character 
 far superior to those of the majority of his people. 
 He was accomplished and courteous, as well as 
 bold and daring. His virtue, his generosity, and 
 especially his moderation when successful, was 
 surprising. Besides all else that we can say of 
 him, he was a devoted Christian. 
 
 In the presence of such a leader, and such an 
 army as he commanded, no wonder that the Ro- 
 man world trembled. Constantinople might have 
 
204 ^^^ LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 fallen into his hands ; but the judicious General 
 preferred to lead his army into the rich fields of 
 Greece, where he could satisfy the desires of the 
 people for wealth, and his own ambition for fame. 
 Turning their standards southward, the Gothic 
 army traversed unresisted the plains of Mace- 
 donia and Thessaly, passed Thermopylae, that 
 monument of Spartan valor, and then flooded, 
 with their almost innumerable hosts, the land of 
 the muses, of poetry, of philosophy, of art, and 
 of beauty. Smoldering villages and a devas- 
 tated country marked the wake of the rude army. 
 Thebes, the city with her seven gates, was passed 
 by Alaric in his haste to reach Athens. No re- 
 sistance whatever was offered on the entire route 
 from Thermopylae to the city of wisdom ; and, 
 having arrived before its gates, the prudent hero 
 offered to accept as a ransom the greater part of 
 the Athenian wealth. Terrified by the voice of 
 the Gothic herald, the people submitted to the 
 requisitions asked of them ; and the treaty of 
 peace was consummated with the strictest oaths 
 from both parties. Alaric, with a small guard, 
 was permitted to enter the city of Minerva. He 
 there indulged himself in the refreshment of the 
 bath, and enjoyed a splendid banquet, provided 
 for him and his company by the magistrates of 
 the much-afflicted city. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 205 
 
 It is to be remembered that this barbarian, who 
 had become a Christian at heart, had not, or could 
 not, at least immediately, overcome the warHke, 
 and even cruel propensities, so peculiar to his 
 birth and ancestry. 
 
 The baleful presence of the conqueror blasted 
 the whole of Attica ; and an old legend, one of 
 those many relics of a declining paganism, de- 
 clares that Athens itself would have been sacked, 
 had not Minerva, the patron goddess of the city, 
 appeared upon the walls, clad in armor, grasping 
 a flashing sword in her hand and bearing a shield, 
 which, as the story goes, inspired terror and dis- 
 may, and, by its movements, darkness, clouds, 
 thunder and lightning, were collected. They go 
 so far as to afhrm that the angry phantom of their 
 old hero, Achilles, defiantly threatened the bar- 
 barian hosts. Ridiculous as this story may ap- 
 pear, it is no more absurd than many of the 
 fabulous traditions that then existed, and still ex- 
 ist in the Romish Church, concerning the miracles 
 of saints. You may rest assured that the mind 
 of Alaric was too cool, and of too much of a prac- 
 tical turn, to have imagined, much less seen, any 
 such fanciful vision. 
 
 Corinth, Argos, and even Sparta, yielded with- 
 out resistance to the Gothic arms. "The de- 
 scendants of that extraordinary people," says 
 
2C6 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Gibbon, " who had considered valor and discipline 
 as the walls of Sparta, no longer remembered the 
 generous reply of their ancestors to an invader* 
 more formidable than Alaric : ' If thou art a God, 
 thou wilt not hurt those who have never injured 
 thee — if thou art a man, advance — thou wilt find 
 men equal to thyself" The monuments of art, 
 and the work and skill of ages, fell into the ruth- 
 less hands of the barbarians, who valued them 
 more for their costly adornments than for the ele- 
 gance of the workmanship. 
 
 " The invasion of the Goths, instead of vin- 
 dicating the honor, contributed, at least accident- 
 ally, to the extirpation of the last remains of pa- 
 ganism. And the mysteries of Ceres, which had 
 subsisted eighteen hundred years, did not survive 
 the destruction of Eleusis and the calamities of 
 Greece." Ceres was the name given to the pagan 
 goddess of harvest — in fact she was ^^ mother 
 earth'' — and her mysterious worship was prob- 
 ably continued later than that of any of the other 
 pagan deities. 
 
 Afflicted and bleeding Greece, unable tc^ defend 
 her fading glory, at last had to seek the assist- 
 ance of the powerful Stilicho, who hastily col- 
 lected a navy, and sailed to the shores of Corinth. 
 Thence he marched to Arcadia, the country of 
 
 * Pyrrhus, 272 B. C. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR 20/ 
 
 woodlands and mountains, where, by the exercise 
 of untiring skill and energy, the Roman at length 
 prevailed against the Goth, whom he drove into 
 Elis, a country which had hitherto been the home 
 of peace, and whose inhabitants delighted only in 
 their rural seclusion. Here many of the Goths 
 deserted, and delivered up their arms to the Ele- 
 ans, as they marched through their country. For- 
 tune itself, for a time, seemed to forsake the 
 Gothic chieftain. His camp was besieged, and, 
 to his horror, the very river that supplied his 
 army with water was turned from its channel by 
 his sagacious enemy. Parched with thirst, and 
 surrounded on all sides, both by the walls of the 
 Romans and the strong line of guards they had 
 thrown out, Alaric seemed doomed to become a 
 captive. So long as Stilicho commanded, and 
 trusted in God, he kept the invaders under con- 
 trol ; but, too confident of victory, he in person 
 retired, with a few of his favorites, to enjoy a 
 triumph. Somewhat elated, perhaps, by what 
 appeared to be a certain success, he carelessly 
 departed from the path of rectitude, and indulged 
 himself in the attendance upon that bane of vir- 
 tue in all stages of society, the theater. "Alaric 
 appears to have seized the favorable moment to 
 execute one of those hardy enterprises, in which 
 the abilities of a general are displayed with more 
 
208 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 genuine luster than in the tumult of a day of 
 battle." The first difficulty to be overcome was 
 the passage of the walls and intrenchments of 
 the enemy. However, the soldiers of Stilicho 
 had become, to a great degree, demoralized. 
 Many had deserted their standards, and had 
 banded themselves into gangs of robbers, who 
 stripped the already desolate country of all the 
 merciless barbarians had left behind. The Gothic 
 chieftain embraced the opportunity that thus pre- 
 sented itself, and, exercising the greatest pru- 
 dence, as well as rapidity and secrecy of action, 
 he led his trusty troops, with his captives and 
 spoils, out of their temporary prison, and, by a 
 forced march of thirty miles, through innumer- 
 able dangers, passing an arm of the sea in his 
 route, he took possession of the province of 
 Epirus. It was not until the wary Goths were 
 far on their march that Stilicho was informed 
 that Alaric and his own glory had departed to- 
 gether. 
 
 While the Romans were sluggishly recovering 
 themselves from the dream of pleasure and vic- 
 tory in which they had been indulging themselves, 
 Alaric consummated a treaty of peace with Arca- 
 dius and the Court at Constantinople. Stilicho 
 wisely withdrew his troops rather than involve 
 the two empires in a civil war. The Gothic 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 
 
 209 
 
 General, by this happy measure, became no longer 
 the outlaw, but the subject of a power he had at 
 first intended to destroy.* 
 
 * See Gibbon on the Revolt of the Goths. 
 14 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CROWNING OF ALARIC. 
 
 GENERAL dissatisfaction, both of peo- 
 ple and officials, prevailed all over the 
 Eastern Empire, concerning the cow- 
 ardly action of Arcadius. The people were ready 
 to take the life of their notorious sovereign, who 
 only feared that the almost impregnable fortress 
 of Constantinople would next be assaulted, and 
 his own effeminate dignity be obliged to appear 
 in person upon the field. Arcadius thought, as 
 did his brother soon afterward, when Alaric ap- 
 peared in sight of his palace, that to save the 
 Empire was to save himself 
 
 Not satisfied with the personal security he had 
 purchased by this treaty with the Goths, Arcadius 
 exhibited the consummateness of his weakness by 
 appointing Alaric to the Master-Generalship of 
 Eastern lUyricum. The indignation of the people 
 of Greece, whose homes had been burned and 
 their lands ravished, was of no avail. In vain 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 211 
 
 did the eloquent philosopher Synesius, of Cyrene, 
 (who was afterward made bishop,) plead on be- 
 half of the people for the Emperor to banish 
 frivolity and luxury from his Court, and himself, 
 in the person of a plain soldier, take the field, 
 and drive the barbarian hosts from his provinces. 
 Synesius pleaded with him " to force, in such a 
 moment of public danger, the mechanic from his 
 shop, and the philosopher from his school ; to 
 rouse the indolent citizen from his dream of pleas- 
 ure, and to arm for the protection of agriculture 
 the hands of the laborious husbandman." But 
 neither the oration which the philosopher de- 
 livered, nor the crown of gold which he presented 
 to the Emperor, moved him. He only persisted 
 in raising Alaric to the first rank in his Empire. 
 The Goth now had what he desired. He had 
 virtually become possessor of a kingdom without 
 fighting for it. He began immediately to exercise 
 his new gift of statesmanship, as well as general- 
 ship. The four great arsenals of the East were 
 immediately commanded to furnish the Gothic 
 hosts with the necessary supply of complete 
 armor. Alaric himself was conscious of the gfreat 
 height to which he had attained ; and applauded 
 himself, not upon the personal dignity he had 
 reached, but upon the hope that he yet might 
 establish a free kingdom for his people, who had 
 
2 1 2 THE LAST GLAD 1 A TORLAL SHO W. 
 
 SO long sought a home in that unfriendly land. 
 And although he forced the Romans to forge the 
 weapons of their own destruction, it was the 
 result of a heart full of love for the welfare and 
 happiness of his brethren in arms. 
 
 This fraternal spirit well deserved the reward 
 that Alaric soon received at the hands of the 
 Goths. The glory of his deeds, as well as the 
 glory of his birth, together with the faith they 
 placed in his future designs, induced the grateful 
 barbarians to raise their hero to the same dignity 
 as that possessed by an Amal. In their camp in 
 Thessalonica, the patriotic cry of "Alaric, King 
 of the Goths !" rang from clan to clan, and 
 quarter to quarter, until the whole army, un- 
 bidden, assembled around the chieftain's head- 
 quarters. Elated at the hope of the restoration 
 of sovereignty to their nation, they led Alaric 
 from his simple soldier's tent, placed him in their 
 midst, and, throwing down a ponderous shield, 
 placed the giant on it, and raised him on their 
 devoted shoulders, amid the deafening cry, "Ala- 
 ric, the King of the Goths !" " Long live Alaric 
 the Bold!" "Alaric, the Son of Odin!" "The 
 Chief from the River !" (so called because he was 
 born on the Island of Pence, at the mouth of 
 the Danube.) Those powerful limbs and broad 
 shoulders, incased in blazing armor, were those 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 213 
 
 of a warrior indeed. Well might his people ad- 
 mire him — greaves, cuirass, buckler, a ponderous 
 sword, and a massive helmet, from whose crest a 
 rich black ostrich plume hung gracefully down, 
 constituted his armor. Over his coat of mail was 
 carelessly thrown a bear-skin cloak, ornamented 
 with the claws of the beast itself This was the 
 vestige of a more peaceful life. The tumult 
 having subsided, a chieftain stepped forward, 
 accompanied by the most illustrious heroes of 
 the tribes, and, after their custom, solemnly pro- 
 claimed Alaric King of the West Goths. The 
 new-made king at once unclasped his helmet, and, 
 baring a noble forehead, and exposing his long 
 yellow locks to the north wind, said : " Tribes 
 of the North — children of Odin, time and for- 
 tune will tell whether I deserved this honor at 
 your hands. You have made me king. I now 
 promise you, by the God of the Christians, to 
 find either a kingdom or a grave in Italy. In- 
 stead of seeking Asgard we will force our way 
 through the passes of the Alps, and penetrate to 
 Rome itself Will you follow me.^" 
 
 The address had its effect. The homeless 
 Goths began to entertain fair hopes of rich pos- 
 sessions, green pastures, and a land of peace. 
 From this moment the royal dignity was con- 
 ferred forever upon the race of the Balti, which 
 
214 ^-^^ LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 now ranked second only to the illustrious family 
 of the Amali. In this way Alaric was armed 
 with a double power — first that received from 
 Arcadius, and, secondly, that received at the 
 hands of his own army. 
 
 At once the great army broke up its camp. 
 The rattle of armor, the shouts of the exultant 
 soldiery, and the rumble of heavy wagons, soon 
 surprised the Thessalonicians, whose country they 
 were about to abandon. Having arrived in hos- 
 tile Pannonia, they were met by numerous ob- 
 stacles. The warlike inhabitants of that country 
 assailed them at every pass, in every forest and 
 ravine, where concealment could be found for 
 their cowardly bands. 
 
 Before they had proceeded far within the con- 
 fines of this inhospitable land, the army arrived 
 at a mountain pass strongly fortified by nature, 
 but more strongly guarded by a hostile army. 
 This very formidable opposition took the Goths 
 rather by surprise. A flight of darts from the 
 bows of the light-armed archers, posted in secure 
 hiding-places in the lofty cliffs, felled many an 
 unwary hero to the ground. So unexpected was 
 the surprise, and so fatal the effect of the dis- 
 charge of arrows, that the army for a moment 
 reeled, and all was thrown into confusion. But 
 the voice of Alaric rans: clear and loud above the 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR, 21 5 
 
 tumult, bidding every man to stand in his rank. 
 In an instant the broad shields of the Goths 
 formed a safe covering for most of their persons, 
 and every man prepared himself for an attack. 
 The light-armed, with drawn swords in their 
 hands, regardless of the showers of arrows, clam- 
 bered up the rocks, and drove from their hiding- 
 places those who escaped their swords. At the 
 same time the heavy-armed spearsmen, headed 
 by their king, met face to face the stern lancers 
 who held the pass. The fight was a fierce one ; 
 for, when the two foes closed in upon each other, 
 they fought man to man, hand to hand, until 
 finally the Goths prevailed, and the phalanx of 
 the rude, but hardy Pannonians, was broken. 
 But few of the enemy escaped from the Gothic 
 cavalry — to which, for the grandeur and fleetness 
 of its horses, the world has never since produced 
 an equal. 
 
 The army in its march, although harassed 
 considerably by archers in ambush, passed on, 
 forcing its way to the foot of the Julian Alps. 
 Here a critical state of affairs presented itself 
 The pass, which was almost another Thermop- 
 ylae, was strongly guarded by the well-disciplined 
 Roman legions. To storm it, while guarded by 
 such a force, would be to lose half his army. The 
 sallies of the respective clans from time to time 
 
2 1 6 THE LAST GLAD I A TORIAL SHO W. 
 
 more strongly convinced Alaric of the truth 
 of this conclusion. He had no doubt that he 
 could take this fortress of nature, but, in so do- 
 ing, he would sacrifice the flower of that army 
 for which he was seeking a kingdom. Further- 
 more, if he should even accomplish this, and 
 make this sacrifice, he would not have troops 
 sufficient to take Rome. 
 
 In view of these considerations the wary gen- 
 eral speedily broke up his camp, called in his out- 
 posts, and retreated, with all possible haste, back 
 over the track he had just made. Having passed 
 through Pannonia, to the banks of the Danube, he 
 there replenished his ranks with fresh swarms 
 of barbarians, who crossed from Dacia to espouse 
 the Gothic cause. The Ostrogoths gladly flocked 
 to the standard of their brethren in arms from 
 the West. 
 
 After spending the Winter in camp, the King 
 again took up his march westward, with an army 
 of about two hundred thousand men. The terror- 
 stricken Pannonians, whose knowledge of the 
 world and geography in general was not very ex- 
 tended, were inclined to believe that this host of 
 warriors had arisen out of the Eastern ocean, or 
 had descended from the abode of the gods — they 
 being as well informed concerning one as the 
 other. No resistance was offered until, after long 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR, 21/ 
 
 and weary marches, they arrived in sight of the 
 snow-clad peaks of the Alps. 
 
 Here, the posts of the enemy had been ex- 
 tended over a considerable section of country. 
 Bands of sentinels had been stationed in every 
 prominent and important place, while, in fact, the 
 main army of the Romans had retired into Italy. 
 Their general, who had little suspected the plans 
 of the Goths, supposed that they had been over- 
 awed at the appearance of the Roman arms, and 
 had retired. The outposts were only sent out in 
 order to produce the same effect as before, namely, 
 that of discouraging the Goths from their project 
 of passing the Alps. This sham appearance of 
 strength was fearlessly put to the test by Alaric, 
 who steadily marched his hosts to and through 
 the pass, as regardless of the scattering darts of 
 the skirmishers as he would have been of hail- 
 stones. The poet tells us that " Fame, encircling 
 with terror her gloomy wings, proclaimed the 
 march of the barbarian army, and filled Italy with 
 consternation!" The Roman army was speedily 
 collected from camp and garrison, and every 
 possible means taken to check the Gothic invader. 
 But Alaric, with extraordinary sagacity, avoided 
 an engagement by means of counter-marches and 
 retreats, and then advances, in directions un- 
 thought of by the enemy. 
 
2 1 8 THE LAST GLAD I A TOR LA L SHO W, 
 
 After numerous maneuvers of this kind, he suc- 
 ceeded in surprising the enemy near Aquileia, 
 and driving them within the gates. Having done 
 this, he quietly settled down, not so much for a 
 siege as for the purpose of starving out the city. 
 The neighboring country supplied the army from 
 its rich store-houses, and Alaric was content to 
 allow his people to live off the fat of the land, 
 while he could, at the same time, reduce the 
 enemy without bloodshed. The siege was a tedi- 
 ous one ; but at last the beleaguered city, in which 
 many were at the point of perishing from hunger, 
 forced its general to capitulate. 
 
 Many a rich prize, both of officers and treasure, 
 fell into the hands of Alaric. But, as moderation 
 was a prominent characteristic of his nature, he 
 liberated the greater number of the common sol- 
 diery, only retaining certain captives for slaves. 
 The army captured was, comparatively speaking, 
 quite small, and Alaric was not a httle disap- 
 pointed in his prize. 
 
 The conquests of Venetia and Istria, two prov- 
 inces at the head of the Adriatic Sea, were con- 
 ducted very slowly indeed ; yet the Gothic arms 
 gained victory after victory over the legions sent 
 against them, until all Italy was filled with terror 
 at the approaching fate of the Empire. 
 
 The barbarian cavalry swept all of the Northern 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 219 
 
 provinces, until the Gothic camp became a great 
 store-house of wealth. 
 
 The alarm was universal, and, instead of exhib- 
 iting the courage and patriotism of their ancestry, 
 the cowardly citizens took advantage of every 
 possible opportunity to embark with their valua- 
 ble effects for Sicily or the African coast. The 
 coast country, the ports, and the shipping were all 
 filled with fugitives, who loved their fortunes and 
 their lives better than the grand historic land 
 that had given them birth. 
 
 The fate of Rome was to all appearances sealed. 
 Signs and prodigies, which a credulous and super- 
 stitious people could easily magnify and believe, 
 were reported to have been seen by both pagans and 
 Christians. Mr. Gibbon says: "The public dis- 
 tress was aggravated by the fears and reproaches 
 of superstition. Every house produced some hor- 
 rid tale of strange and portentous accidents ; the 
 pagans deplored the neglect of omens and the in- 
 terruption of sacrifices ; but the Christians still 
 derived some comfort from the powerful interces- 
 sion of saints and martyrs." 
 
 For your amusement, I will quote an account 
 of these phenomena and wonders, as given by 
 Philostorgius,* an ecclesiastical historian of the 
 fourth and early part of the fifth centuries. 
 
 * See translation in Bohn's Eccl. Library. 
 
220 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 "There was, at this time, such a pestilence as 
 had never occurred before within the memory of 
 man, in accordance with the portent of the stars, 
 which appeared in the form of a sword ; for, not 
 only was the military force destroyed as in former 
 wars, nor was it only in one part of the world that 
 signal calamities occurred, but men of every rank 
 and degree perished, and the whole of Europe, 
 and a very large part of Asia, was entirely rav- 
 aged. A considerable portion of Africa also, and 
 especially that part which was subject to the Ro- 
 mans, felt the blow. For the swords of the bar- 
 barians carried off large multitudes, and pestilence 
 and famine pressed upon them at the same time, 
 together with large herds of wild beasts. In ad- 
 dition to this there were very grievous earth- 
 quakes, which overturned houses and entire cities 
 from their foundations, and hurled them into in- 
 evitable ruin. Moreover, in certain parts the 
 earth opened and gasped, swallowing up the in- 
 habitants suddenly as in a tomb. There were 
 also, in certain other parts, fierce droughts and 
 fiery whirlwinds, descending from above, to com- 
 plete the manifold calamity till it was past endur- 
 ance. Hail, too, fell in many places bigger than 
 a stone which, would fill the hand — nay, it was 
 found in some parts of such a size that it weighed 
 no less than eight pounds. Moreover, there was 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 221 
 
 a great downfall of snow, accompanied by a se- 
 vere frost, which seized upon those who had not 
 been carried off by other calamities, and deprived 
 them of life, most clearly revealing the anger of 
 God. But to mention the details of these visita- 
 tions is a task which surpasses human ability." 
 
 This terribly expanded account of wonderful 
 things is evidently the work of a credulous and 
 even superstitious mind, although the writer was a 
 Christian. How true the above statements may 
 be is unknown ; at best, they are much exagger- 
 ated, and give a fair example of the over-credulous 
 tendency of the age, from which the Fathers them- 
 selves, in their histories, are not altogether free. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FLIGHT OF HONORIUS. 
 
 ^ONORIUS was probably the most noto- 
 rious coward that ever wore the purple ; 
 "he was distinguished above his subjects 
 by the pre-eminence of fear as well as of rank." 
 His vanity never led him to suspect that any 
 power existed on the face of the earth presumptu- 
 ous enough to disturb the peace of the Romans. 
 It is true, the mention of the Roman arms carried 
 terror even yet over all civilized Europe, and parts 
 of Asia and Africa. But the Goths, too, had a 
 martial prestige, as much unknown to the Romans 
 as was the fame of the great deeds and admirable 
 prowess of the old heroes unknown to them. The 
 pride and luxury in which the Emperor had been 
 educated had not a little to do with his cowardly 
 nature. 
 
 The flatterers who frequented his Court indulged 
 his timidity until Alaric was within a few miles of 
 
 222 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 223 
 
 the palace of Milan. At the announcement of 
 this very imminent danger, Honorius very gladly 
 accepted the proposition of favorites (who, by the 
 way, are the curse of every court) to allow them 
 to convey his sacred person to some secure and 
 retired station in distant Gaul. Happy it was for 
 the honor of Rome that among the many who 
 frequented that luxurious Court there was one who 
 not only had the courage to say no to such a dis- 
 graceful measure, but had the authority, too, with 
 which to suppress it. 
 
 Stilicho now attained to the summit of his own 
 grandeur ; for, like the delivering angel of a fall- 
 ing empire, he alone stretched forth a hand to 
 save in this hour of extremity. 
 
 Alaric, probably, would not have been allowed 
 to advance so far in his march had not the armies, 
 and particularly the troops of the palace, been re- 
 cently sent to the Rhsetian frontier, to drive out 
 a body of barbarians who were ravaging that 
 province. The brave general, fearing lest a mo- 
 ment should be lost, and that new levies for sol- 
 diers might be delayed too long, immediately 
 vaulted into his saddle, and, accompanied by a 
 few daring followers, bade farewell to the Emperor 
 and his Court, with the request that they should 
 hold out, at least until his return, when he would 
 bring troops to their rescue, and the rescue of the 
 
224 ^^^ LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Roman honor. The hero and his little band 
 hastily embarked on the Larian (Como) lake, and 
 arrived at the foot of the Alps. Here their cour- 
 age and hardihood did not fail them ; but, in the 
 midst of that Alpine Winter, they ascended the 
 mountains of ice, and, to the great surprise and 
 joy of the legions, arrived in the Roman camp. 
 
 The unexpected appearance of Stilicho so 
 alarmed the hostile Alamani that they at once 
 sued for peace, and, as a condition, they volun- 
 teered to send a select number of their bravest 
 youth to oppose the invaders. 
 
 The cohorts that had been engaged in Rhaetia 
 speedily repaired to the imperial standard ; yet, 
 they alone were not deemed sufficient for the 
 purpose by that general whose foresight was never 
 surpassed, and who deserved a worthier sovereign 
 and a braver people. He immediately issued or- 
 ders to the troops stationed in the far West, and 
 even sent a courier to the legion guarding the 
 wall of Britain against the warlike Caledonians 
 of the North. The soldiers of Germany and of 
 Gaul all flocked to the rescue of Italy. The 
 noted cavalry of the Alani was persuaded to es- 
 pouse the cause of Honorius. Mr. Gibbon says: 
 " When Stilicho seemed to abandon his sovereign 
 in the unguarded palace of Milan, he had proba- 
 bly calculated the term of his absence, the dis- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 225 
 
 tance of the enemy, and the obstacles that might 
 retard their march. He principally depended 
 upon the rivers of Italy — the Adige, the Mincius, 
 the Oglio, and the Addua — which, in the Winter 
 or Spring, by the fall of rains or by the melting of 
 snows, are commonly swelled into impetuous tor- 
 rents. But the season happened to be remarka- 
 bly dry, and the Goths could traverse, without 
 impediment, the wide and stony beds, whose 
 center was faintly marked by the course of a shal- 
 low stream." 
 
 Alaric had exercised his generalship to a con- 
 siderable extent in the selection of his camp, and 
 in the posting of detachments. A strong body 
 of Goths were already in possession of the bridge 
 and passage of the Addua. A cold, clear morn- 
 ing was chosen for the attack upon the royal city. 
 Alaric, mounted on a stately Scythian war-horse, 
 headed his army. At the blast of the trumpet, 
 the foot-soldiers, with spears and huge bucklers, 
 crossed the bridge, while the cavalry, the pride of 
 the Goths, forded the river. The sentinels guard- 
 ing the palace immediately gave the alarm. A 
 cry of terror arose all over the ungarrisoned city. 
 Stilicho, with his legions, had not yet arrived. 
 The scene in the palace was one of the utmost 
 confusion. The cowardly Emperor was com- 
 pletely overcome with fear, and the only refuge 
 IS 
 
226 THE LAST GLADIA TO RIAL SHOW. 
 
 was to risk his life to the speed of his best 
 charger. Not a moment was lost, for, before 
 Alaric had entered the suburbs of the city, the 
 royal train of Honorius, and a few of his feeble 
 flatterers and statesmen, dashed out of the palace 
 court, rolling up a cloud of dust behind them as 
 they vanished over the plains between them and 
 the Alps. Alaric, half pleased at seeing the Em- 
 peror of the West fly before him, and half disap- 
 pointed at losing so valuable a prize, shouted, with 
 wild enthusiasm : " On ! on ! to the chase, right 
 on, horse of the Goths ; half the royal treasure 
 shall be your reward for Honorius." A terrible 
 shout arose, alike from footmen and horsemen, 
 and the noble steeds, catching the meaning, dashed 
 on with wonderful speed, amid the clatter of ar- 
 mor and the shouts of their riders. 
 
 The bright sun flashed alternately from lance 
 and from mail coat, until a great cloud of dust 
 rolled up from behind them like the smoke from 
 a prairie on fire. Honorius and his train had 
 scarcely crossed the Po before he discovered the 
 Goths close on his heels. 
 
 The imminence of the danger compelled him at 
 once to seek a temporary shelter within the forti- 
 fications of Asta, a town of Liguria, situate on 
 the banks of the Tanarus. Leaving a considera- 
 ble guard at the bridge and ford of Addua, Alaric 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 22/ 
 
 pressed down with his army upon Asta, consoling 
 himself with the assurance that the rich prize of 
 royal captives awaited him. The Goths settled 
 down for a siege ; every advantageous place was 
 taken possession of, and, from all appearances, an 
 almost immediate surrender was certain. The 
 Gothic King had even sent terms of capitulation, 
 to which he only awaited an answer. 
 
 In the mean time, Stilicho gathered his legions 
 on the Rhaetian frontier, and, by forced marches, 
 reached the ford of Addua. This he found 
 strongly guarded, and, feeling the need of his 
 presence at Asta, he chose from the ranks of his 
 cavalry a select band of Romans, all brave as their 
 leader. Leaving the army to drive the enemy 
 from the bridge, he and his intrepid van-guard 
 swam the Addua, dashed across the plains to the 
 Po, which they forded with little hazard, and, at 
 night-fall, camped in sight of the Gothic camp. 
 Soon after dark, Stilicho, with his heroic band, 
 rode right through the Gothic lines straight into 
 their camp, and, sword in hand, hewed their way 
 through the almost impenetrable opposition that 
 met them. In spite of all the attempts of the 
 Goths to hew them down or drive them back, the 
 brave leader and followers reached the gate of the 
 city without the loss of a man, although nearly all 
 were covered with wounds. Fortunately, Stilicho 
 
228 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 remained unscathed ; his gigantic form, of which 
 we have spoken before, was able to bear a heavier 
 armor than that usually worn by ordinary men. 
 
 Having arrived at the gate, the keeper de- 
 manded the countersign ; but the well-known 
 and welcome voice of the general proved a happy 
 and timely substitute, for the whole Gothic army, 
 that had been suddenly aroused, was pressing 
 them hard in the rear ; and barely had the massy 
 doors of the fortress closed, when the crash of 
 armor and the clang of steel told that a host of 
 barbarians were pressing their mailed shoulders 
 hard against it. One moment more and the fate 
 of Honorius, Stilicho, and Rome, would have been 
 sealed forever. Covered with dust, bespattered 
 with blood, and his sword dripping with the red 
 gore of many an unfortunate barbarian, the great 
 general walked into Court, to the irrepressible 
 joy of the Emperor, who had already despaired 
 of any means of escape. The little garrison, who 
 had expected to be sold into slavery, or meet 
 their fate at the hands of their cruel enemies, 
 raised a shout of joy on the walls that soon told 
 the Goths of the handsome prize they had lost. 
 Alaric became still more impatient, and would 
 have vented his impatience in an attack on the 
 following morning, had he not, to his surprise, 
 discovered that during the night the great Ro- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR, 229 
 
 man army had camped all around him. The en- 
 gagement at the bridge of the Addua lasted but 
 a short time — the Goths, being overpowered by 
 numbers, found it necessary to retreat into camp 
 with all possible speed. 
 
 Instead of witnessing the capture of the rich 
 prize, with a whole Court, that was imprisoned 
 within the walls of Asta, Alaric daily witnessed 
 the arrival of the legions of the West, who came 
 from the most distant parts of the Continent, 
 and successively issued through the snow-bound 
 passes of the Alps. His foraging parties were 
 soon intercepted ; and at last the legion from 
 Britain, bearing its eagle from the severities of 
 Northern Caledonia, had come to the rescue of 
 Rome and Italy, their mother, whose climate 
 welcomed them with its congenial breezes, as a 
 mother with outstretched arms receives her sons 
 back from their wanderings. "The vigilance of 
 the Romans prepared to form a chain of fortifi- 
 cations, and to besiege the line of the besiegers." 
 The Goths had to rely wholly upon the store of 
 provisions in camp. A battle was certain soon ; 
 and Alaric would have fought both the Emperor's 
 garrison in the front and the innumerable hosts 
 of the Romans in the rear, had not his chieftains 
 thought it best not to hazard so great an under- 
 taking. "A military council was assembled of 
 
230 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 the long-haired chiefs of the Gothic nation — of 
 aged warriors, whose bodies were wrapped in furs, 
 and whose stern countenances were marked with 
 honorable wounds. They weighed the glory of 
 persisting in their attempt against the advantage 
 of securing their plunder, and they recommended 
 the prudent measure of a seasonable retreat. In 
 this important debate Alaric displayed the spirit 
 of the conqueror of Rome." He reminded them 
 of the heroism of their ancestors, of their mar- 
 velous deeds of daring, of the migration of their 
 people from the far, far North — how all this had 
 been done in search of a kingdom where they 
 might find wealth that would reward them for 
 their valor. He repeated to them the success of 
 their own exploits in Greece, and reminded them 
 that now Italy, with its treasure, its beauty, and 
 its fame, lay before them — that soon, if success 
 crowned their arms, they might plant the Gothic 
 standard on the walls of Rome, and enrich their 
 army with the accumulated spoils of three hun- 
 dred triumphs. His eloquent speech was closed 
 by the repetition of his vow, made at his coro- 
 nation, that he would find in Italy either a king- 
 dom or a grave. 
 
 Note. — The uncredited quotations in this chapter are from 
 Gibbon. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BATTLE OF POLLENTIA 
 
 |HE enthusiastic and fiery speech of Ala- 
 ric had but Httle effect in changing the 
 minds of the old warriors. They would 
 
 not for a moment entertain the thought of haz- 
 arding the success of their whole campaign in a 
 battle, while in their present situation. So, to 
 make the best of it, they quietly withdrew the 
 same night from before the walls of Asta to Pol- 
 lentia, where they pitched their camp and built 
 fortifications. 
 
 It was on the 29th of March, A. D. 403, that 
 Easter, with all its holy remembrances, dawned 
 upon the Gothic camp. With the breaking of 
 the day, the hosts of warriors rose to celebrate, 
 with all the ancient ceremonies, the anniversary 
 of the victory won by the Captain of their sal- 
 vation. An altar had been raised in the center of 
 the camp, about which all assembled. The holy 
 father, holding a cross in his hand, pathetically 
 
 231 
 
232 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 pointed those rude barbarians to it and to Him 
 who died upon it for them ; told them of the 
 love of the Savior, and encouraged them by bid- 
 ding them to be of good cheer, for, if they were 
 soldiers of the Cross, they should overcome all 
 things. The touching sermon had ended — the 
 army had fallen upon their knees — the father be- 
 fore the altar cried in prayer to the great God 
 of battles, to take into his keeping that chieftain 
 and his noble followers, to crown their arms with 
 victory, and to adopt them as his people. 
 
 In the midst of these solemnities the Christian 
 Goths were startled by the loud ring of the Ro- 
 man bugle at their rear, then the clatter of hoofs 
 and rattle of armor. The whole camp was at once 
 thrown into confusion. Every man rushed for 
 his sword or his lance. But, amid all the dismay 
 and terror, one was fearless and calm. Rising 
 from his knees, Alaric the Bold ascended the 
 sacred steps of the altar, and, waving his ponder- 
 ous blade, where the father had a few moments 
 before held up the cross, he cried : " Heroes of 
 the Goths, sons of the North, fear not; trust in 
 the God of the Christians ; he will deliver us. 
 Now, in his name, to .arms !" At the next in- 
 stant the Imperial cavalry, headed by Saul, a bar- 
 barian and pagan, charged impetuously into the 
 camp. All for a moment was in the most alarm- 
 
ALARIC DEFENDING HIS WIFE AND CHILD. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 233 
 
 ing confusion. But a little band of the old he- 
 roes, who had seized their arms, formed a pha- 
 lanx, and, with their long lances, kept the Roman 
 horse at bay long enough for Alaric to exercise 
 his undaunted genius in giving his army an order 
 and a field of battle. The long lines of the Goths 
 presented a formidable appearance, indeed ; in 
 front the spearsmen, with lances in position to 
 receive the enemy. On either wing, and in the 
 center, as well as in the rear, were stationed the 
 cavalry, the like of which has never since been 
 known among the nations. In the rear of all, 
 occupying a slight elevation, were the archers, 
 whose bows were nearly twice the size of those 
 used by the Romans. The brave band of spears- 
 men, who opposed the charge of the squadrons, 
 could hold their position no longer. The in- 
 numerable hosts of the Romans pressed them 
 down, and they each found a grave at his post. 
 Once more the ancient valor seemed to return to 
 the legions, and Saul's cavalry swept down upon 
 the Goths, like one of those terrible storms in the 
 Arabian and Saharan deserts, when whole cara- 
 vans are buried by the sands. As they advanced, 
 the Gothic archers shot a cloud of arrows into 
 the air that descended true to their aim, right into 
 the front of the enemy's ranks. They glanced 
 from the shields of the Romans like hailstones; 
 
234 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 but many a mail-coat was pierced through and 
 through by those unerring shafts. At first the 
 line of the charge was broken, and a shout went 
 up from the Goths as Alaric ordered them for- 
 ward to the attack. And as they advanced, from 
 one end of their long line to the other rang their 
 Easter war-cry, "In the God of the Christians 
 we conquer." 
 
 At this terrible juncture the chief of the Alani, 
 who had espoused the cause of the Romans, led 
 his cavalry, so noted for swiftness and bravery, 
 into the front of the battle. He himself was 
 somewhat diminutive in form, but he possessed a 
 magnanimous soul, and here he determined to 
 establish that loyalty which had so often been 
 suspected. His squadrons pressed hard upon 
 the spears of the Goths, breaking them and the 
 lines of defense they had formed, but all to no 
 avail. The hosts of barbarians, whose blades al- 
 ready dripped with the blood of the Romans, 
 mowed them as wheat before the reapers. Again 
 and again they rallied and charged, but each time 
 their ranks were broken by the giant Alaric. The 
 zealous chief of the Alani drew off and formed 
 his horsemen again for a final charge. To the 
 right and to the left of him were the Roman 
 squadrons. He determined this time to break 
 the ranks of the enemy. Careless of his own per- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 235 
 
 son, he rode into the front of the battle, and was 
 met by Alaric, whose broadsword easily cut a 
 passage to him. For a moment both armies stood 
 still; and then came one of those hand-to-hand 
 combats between the two chieftains, which so 
 often in ancient warfare decided the fate of a 
 nation. The chief of the Goths found no mean 
 foe in his opponent. Small though he was, he 
 was skilled in the use of arms. Again and again 
 their lances clashed, and glanced from their 
 shields. More than once their chargers met, 
 until, at last, as though each were disgusted with 
 his own success, or luck, as we may call it, they 
 threw down their spears, and met sword to sword. 
 Here the superior strength of Alaric prevailed. 
 One blow from that trusty broadsword shivered 
 the breastplate of the chief in pieces, Uke so 
 much glass, and he fell dead from his saddle. 
 With one wild cry the Goths rushed down upon 
 the enemy. " On ! on !" roared Alaric ; and his 
 black ostrich plume waved high above the rest, 
 like a standard around which his hosts rallied. 
 The Gothic cavalry charged ; the archers shot 
 cloud upon cloud of shafts into the Roman ranks, 
 and the bold swordsmen, regardless of useless 
 risk or peril, each for himself mowed a passage. 
 The enemy staggered, reeled, and turned. 
 
 Then came the slaughter. The Goths, exult- 
 
236 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 ant in victory, followed them as they fled from 
 the field. At every step scores of brave Romans 
 fell from their saddles. The swift Gothic cavalry 
 hewed them down upon every side. The old 
 heroism of their fathers burned in their breasts, 
 and that savage thirst for blood led them to for- 
 get mercy. They forgot the faith they had so 
 lately professed. They thought of themselves 
 only as the worthy sons and heroes of Odin, and, 
 instead of the war-cry of, " The God of the Chris- 
 tians !" the savage yells that went up from their 
 disordered ranks sounded more like the yells of 
 wild beasts in the forest than those of men. At 
 their hands the flower of the Roman squadrons 
 perished, and the remnant that escaped fled in 
 the most precipitous manner. For a moment, 
 and that only, the victory was Alaric's. 
 
 Stilicho, fearing that the fate of Rome was al- 
 ready sealed, led forth both the Roman and bar- 
 barian infantry. As they marched to the attack, 
 he reminded them of the terrible responsibility 
 that rested on them as soldiers of the Republic ; 
 for on them depended the peace, the wealth, the 
 happiness, and the honor of their country. He 
 told them of the valor of their ancestors, and 
 urged them now to prove themselves equally 
 brave. Wild with excitement, the great army 
 received these words of patriotism, and they 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 23/ 
 
 rushed into the fight eager to sacrifice their 
 lives for the salvation of the nation. The exult- 
 ant Goths were as greedy for the slaughter as 
 they. 
 
 Thus it was that the two armies met — one glo- 
 rying in its own strength, forgetful of the God to 
 whom they had committed themselves a few hours 
 before; the other fired by patriotism, each man 
 feeling that he bore the Empire on his own shoul- 
 ders. Stilicho led his legions with a steady pace 
 to the charge, and, with all the severe discipline 
 of the Roman arms, each man marched unflinch- 
 ingly up to the lance point of his enemy. 
 
 Now came a test of the general's skill, as well 
 as the bravery of his soldiers. The loud war-cry 
 of the Goths rang out till the distant battlements 
 of Pollentia threw back the echo ; their heavy in- 
 fantry rushed down upon the Roman legions as 
 the tide rolls in from the ocean. Again and again 
 were their lines broken, as were those of the en- 
 emy. The black plume on the crest of Alaric 
 waved always where the fight was hottest. His 
 heart's desire was to reach Stilicho ; but the gen- 
 eral well knew that too great a responsibility 
 rested upon him for him to risk his person in sin- 
 gle combat with the Gothic King. The Gothic 
 archers showered their shafts upon the enemy, 
 often piercing shield, and breastplate, and wearer 
 
238 THE LAST GLADIA TO RIAL SHO W. 
 
 through and through. Next came the cavalry, 
 triumphant in victory, their armor all bespattered 
 with the blood of the Romans. They fell like 
 an avalanche on the rear of the enemy; and now 
 again came the terrible slaughter. In the rear, the 
 broadswords of the Goths slew thousands. In the 
 front, the long lances of the infantry repeatedly 
 broke the line of battle, and at last lances were 
 thrown away and the two armies closed in upon 
 each other in a terrible hand-to-hand fight, where 
 each soldier chose his opponent, and then fought 
 until he or his enemy was slain. Here the bodily 
 strength of the Goths was matched by the disci- 
 pline of the Romans, and rank after rank of the 
 heroes of both armies fell where they fought, and 
 their places were filled from the rear. Thus, as 
 the hours went by, and the heat of the battle 
 grew hotter, the two armies grew speedily less ; 
 neither prevailed — it was only a question of num- 
 bers. And, as Alaric glanced across the field, on 
 every side the innumerable hosts of the Romans 
 seemed to press them. His cavalry still fought in 
 the rear ; but how small was his army beside that 
 of the enemy ! His great heart, ever full of love 
 for his people, sank within him at the thought of 
 their fate. So, as the sun went down, he blew the 
 signal of retreat upon his horn. The Goths were 
 compelled to retire in the worst possible disorder. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 239 
 
 Their lines had already been broken, and the 
 King, with all his military genius, had not been 
 able to restore them. 
 
 In the face of the fearful odds that bore them 
 down, Alaric, and a few of the old heroes, at the 
 risk both of their persons and the future welfare 
 of their nation, alone covered the retreat. The 
 cavalry, that had done its work so well, engaged 
 with greater daring than ever the whole Roman 
 army, in order that the infantry might reach the 
 camp. This being done, the fleetness of their 
 horses secured them a safe and speedy shelter 
 back of their fortifications. 
 
 Night closed in upon the field of carnage, but 
 peace came not with it. The victorious Romans 
 assaulted the intrenchments, and took them by 
 storm ; and, instead of an honorable battle, a bar- 
 barous slaughter followed, unworthy of Stilicho 
 or his zvculd-be Christian army. True, if they 
 considered themselves heathens, and fought for 
 mere revenge, they made a full atonement for the 
 calamities which the Goths had inflicted on the 
 subjects of the Empire. '' The magnificent spoils 
 of Corinth and Argos enriched the veterans of 
 the West ; the captive wife of Alaric, who had 
 impatiently claimed his promise of Roman jewels 
 and patrician handmaids, was reduced to implore 
 the mercy of the insulting foe; and many thou- 
 
240 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 sand prisoners, released from the Gothic chains, 
 dispersed through the provinces of Italy the 
 praises of their heroic deliverer" — so says Gib- 
 bon ; but we prefer to praise Alaric, who was, no 
 doubt, the greater general ; for he possessed a 
 will and energy as well as that peculiar temper of 
 mind which raises a man above every adversity, 
 and furnishes him new resources from his mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 After the remainder of the Gothic infantry had 
 escaped in the darkness, Alaric withdrew from 
 the bloody field with the greater part of his cav- 
 alry entire and unbroken. The fate of his wife, 
 and children, and daughters-in-law had not yet 
 reached his ears, and his present resolve was to 
 " break through the unguarded passes of the Ap- 
 ennines ; to spread desolation over the fruitful 
 face of Tuscany, and to conquer or die before the 
 gates of Rome." But conspiracy and treason had 
 poisoned and corrupted the pure loyalty of the 
 vanquished army. Some of the chieftains, dissat- 
 isfied with the fate of their arms, secretly sought 
 a treaty with Stilicho. A messenger was sent by 
 the Romans to the Gothic King with the offer of 
 a pension from the Empire if he would retreat 
 from Italy. These terms he would have treated 
 with contempt and indignation, in spite of the 
 threats of the chiefs and the expostulations of the 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 24 1 
 
 people, had he not been apprised of the fate of 
 his family. 
 
 With great sorrow for their condition, and the 
 loss of a kingdom, he ratified the treaty with the 
 general of the West, and recrossed the Po with 
 the remainder of that once flourishing army, and 
 there awaited the restoration of his wife and chil- 
 dren, according to the stipulations of the agree- 
 ment. But the treacherous Romans, when the 
 Goths had retired to that distance where they sup- 
 posed nothing more was to be feared from the mere 
 fragment of an army that remained, disregarded 
 those stipulations, and retained in chains the wife 
 of the King. So incensed was Alaric at this infi- 
 delity of the enemy that he determined again to 
 make a vigorous stand. To this end, he resolved 
 to occupy Verona, the most important city of the 
 Northern provinces. Here he proposed to refill 
 his ranks from the German tribes across the 
 Rhine, whose alliance he was certain of securing. 
 But the traitorous chiefs, who had first compelled 
 him to a treaty, kept up a regular correspondence 
 with the Roman general, and, before Alaric was 
 aware that his well-laid plan had been betrayed, 
 he was suddenly attacked on all sides by the en- 
 emy, while he was advancing toward one of the 
 Alpine passes. 
 
 It is not our purpose, dear reader, to burden 
 16 
 
242 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 you with an account of another battle, which was 
 no doubt as terrible as the one we have just de- 
 scribed. It suffices that we should only quote the 
 brief account given by Mr. Gibbon : 
 
 " In this bloody action, at a small distance from 
 the walls of Verona, the loss of the Goths was 
 not less heavy than that which they sustained in 
 the defeat of Pollentia, and their valiant King, who 
 escaped by the swiftness of his horse, must either 
 have been slain or made prisoner, if the rashness 
 of the Alani had not disappointed the measures 
 of the Roman general. Alaric secured the re- 
 mains of his army on the adjacent rocks, and pre- 
 pared himself, with undaunted resolution, to main- 
 tain a siege against the superior numbers of the 
 enemy, who invested him on all sides. But he 
 could not oppose the destructive progress of hun- 
 ger and disease; nor was it possible for him to 
 check the continued desertion of his impatient 
 and capricious barbarians. In this extremity, he 
 still found resources in his own courage, or in the 
 moderation of his adversary, and the retreat of 
 the Gothic King was considered the deliverance 
 of Italy." 
 
 This ignominious retreat had to be conducted 
 in the night-time, or the little band who remained 
 would have fallen into the hands of the Romans. 
 Through by-ways and unfrequented passes they 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 243 
 
 returned to hostile Pannonia. Alaric was now 
 only a king in name, and scarcely that. Before 
 his defeat, he, at least, was king in the hearts of all 
 his people ; still, in their disgrace, with the excep- 
 tion of a few dissatisfied chieftains, they loved 
 him. His misfortunes were all that he could 
 bear — a king without a kingdom ; a general with- 
 out an army; a husband without a wife, and a 
 father without his children. Notwithstanding all 
 these, we have a brighter future for Alaric. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 TELEMACHUS. 
 
 GENERAL joy pervaded all Italy at the 
 downfall of the Goths. Every city had 
 its special celebration. Honorius and 
 Stilicho were praised in eloquent orations and 
 beautiful songs, in the mouths of all classes, as 
 the benefactors of their race and the deliverers of 
 Rome. The Senate itself, after passing the most 
 glowing eulogies upon the virtues of the weak 
 Emperor, resolved unanimously to invite Hono- 
 rius to the imperial city to celebrate, in grand tri- 
 umph, the achievement of the Roman arms over 
 the barbarians of the North. This high honor 
 was readily accepted by the young Emperor, and 
 preparations were made at once, both by army 
 and Court. 
 
 Let us, for the present at least, take leave of 
 the imperial camp, and choose for our subject the 
 life of a monarch of the desert, rather than the 
 244 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 245 
 
 joy of the monarch of Italy. Not many years 
 previous to this, near the ancient city of Lystra, in 
 the south-eastern extremity of Phrygia, dwelt an 
 aged couple and their only child, a boy of twelve 
 Summers. Their home was a simple one, and 
 their wants few. Their support was a small gar- 
 den, the products of which they sold in the neigh- 
 boring city ; and a small flock, whose care was 
 left to the young Telemachus, constituted the 
 worldly goods of this little household. The father 
 had been a soldier of the Empire, and had been 
 stationed a great part of his life at Rome. He 
 had seen the great profligacy and wickedness of 
 that Gomorrah of the West. He was familiar 
 with the intrigues and corruptions of Court, of 
 the want of virtue in the people, and of the heath- 
 enish barbarities of the amphitheater. But the old 
 soldier had many years since become a devout 
 follower of Christ, and his pious companion in life 
 was truly the saint of that neighborhood. The idol 
 of their affections was Telemachus. Every atten- 
 tion was bestowed upon his religious education. 
 The prayer of both father and mother constantly 
 went up to a throne of grace in his behalf Nor 
 were their prayers in vain ; for, from the earliest 
 days of his childhood, his life was one of the 
 strictest obedience and love. At night, his mother 
 would read to him, sometimes from a little roll of 
 
246 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 parchment, on which was written a part of the 
 New Testament, and sometimes from the lives of 
 the monks and martyrs, who had sacrificed their 
 worldly possessions and comfort, and even their 
 lives, in the cause of Christianity. All these 
 made their impression upon his mind, and he often 
 thought to himself, although he never expressed 
 it, that he, sometime, would like to become a 
 monk, and live as holy a life as Anthony, or Paul, 
 or some of the other Christian heroes of the des- 
 ert. One day, while tending his flock, in com- 
 pany with his father, he began to make inquiries 
 about the people who lived in Rome, asking 
 whether there were many monks in that great city 
 of which he had so often heard. The old man 
 replied : 
 
 " Yes, my son ; but if there were ten times the 
 number there that now minister to its ungrateful 
 and unworthy thousands, God would not spare it 
 from the destruction he has prepared for it." 
 Then casting his eyes over the landscape, as if he 
 were indulging his fancy in a prophetic vision, the 
 old soldier remained silent for a moment, leaning 
 upon his shepherd's staff. 
 
 " But, father, why will God destroy it ; are the 
 people wicked T 
 
 " Yes ; wicked beyond a hope of their salvation ; 
 for they could not be persuaded to forsake their 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 247 
 
 vanities, to say nothing of their inhuman barbari- 
 ties, though one rose from the dead." 
 
 "Wiiy! are the Romans barbarous?" asked 
 Telemachus, with a look of surprise. 
 
 " Yes, my son ; I have often intended to tell you 
 of some of the sights I saw when in Rome, but have 
 hesitated on account of their infamy ; but it may 
 be well for you to know the worst, if worst there 
 is among them. The cruel games of the gladia- 
 tors present by far the most uncivilized yet pitia- 
 ble scenes I ever beheld. I was raised a stern 
 Roman soldier, made familiar with scenes of 
 blood, and the horrors of war ; but my heart sank 
 within me as I saw a victorious gladiator plunge 
 his blade into the heart of his antas^onist, who, 
 faint from exertion and loss of blood, lay suppliant 
 at his feet. And then to hear the shouts of ap- 
 plause that arose from the delighted crowd of 
 spectators, who had consented to this barbarity, 
 almost made me ashamed that I was a Roman." 
 
 '' Was the gladiator killed .?" asked the boy, in 
 youthful simplicity, but with horror depicted in 
 every feature. 
 
 "Yes, killed outright, and his body dragged 
 away, and thrown into the river." 
 
 "Why does not the bishop or the Emperor stop 
 them r 
 
 "The good Emperor Constantine did forbid 
 
248 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 them, but it was all of no avail ; the people and 
 the officers of the Court are so wicked that they 
 still insist on having such inhuman amusements." 
 
 Here Telemachus grew quite thoughtful, his 
 countenance still retaining that painful expres- 
 sion of horror. So absorbed was he in this brief 
 narrative that he forgot to ask any further ques- 
 tions upon the subject. 
 
 That night, after the flock had been safely 
 folded and the frugal meal eaten, the mother of 
 Telemachus took down the sacred roll and read 
 from the fourteenth chapter of Acts the account 
 of Paul curing the man who was a cripple from 
 his birth. The boy grew considerably interested 
 in the story of the apostle's visit to their own 
 city, so that the horrible tale of gladiators was 
 almost forgotten. The mother continued to read : 
 "And when the people saw what Paul had done 
 they lifted up their voices, saying, in the speech 
 of Lycaonia, The gods are come down to us in 
 the likeness of men ; and they called Barnabas 
 Jupiter, and Paul Mercurius, because he was the 
 chief speaker," etc. 
 
 As his mother read of the attempt that the 
 people made to sacrifice to them, his mind was 
 somewhat relieved as he contrasted the state of 
 the world, wicked as it was in his own day, with 
 the dark days of heathenism in which the apostles 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 249 
 
 lived. The old man's mind seemed to flow in 
 the same channel, for, suddenly interrupting the 
 devout reader, he said : " And all this change 
 has taken place in a little more than three hun- 
 dred years ! Well may we say with the apostle, 
 * O ! the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom 
 and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are 
 his judgments, and his ways past finding out /' "* 
 
 The reply of Paul to the priest of Jupiter Tele- 
 machus applied to himself, especially that por- 
 tion : "And we preach unto you that ye should 
 turn from these vanities unto the living God." 
 Then and there he resolved that sometime he 
 would become a monk, trusting that by his life 
 and teaching he might become the instrument in 
 the hands of God of turning many from the 
 vanities of the world to the ways of virtue and 
 righteousness. 
 
 Years rolled on. The boy became a man. The 
 old soldier had gone to join the ranks of the 
 Celestial army. His devout companion had gone 
 on before, to await his coming. Telemachus had 
 given the Httle homestead to his new mother, the 
 Church, and he himself had donned the sheep- 
 skin coat and the sandals of the monk. Taking- 
 leave of all that remained dear to him, he took 
 up his residence in a cave on the side of one of 
 
 * Romans xi, i^. 
 
250 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 the neighboring mountains. There, in his soU- 
 tude, he communed with God, and carefully read 
 the old family parchment that his mother read to 
 him in his childhood. A little garden of vege- 
 tables supplied his own wants. The hours not 
 spent in devotion were employed in making mats, 
 which he sold in the city to obtain money for the 
 poor, to whom he ministered. 
 
 It was one of these errands of mercy, in the 
 Autumn of the year 403, that took Telemachus 
 to the city of Lystra. A general excitement was 
 apparently prevalent among the people of all 
 clashes. In the public square, or market-place, 
 as they termed it, a multitude had collected, and 
 every one was crowding toward the rostrum, on 
 which stood an Imperial messenger, clad in Court 
 dress, bearing the arms of the Empire. Our 
 monk, in the ardor of his young manhood, pressed 
 his way through the crowd until he stood right 
 under the speaker. The messenger proceeded 
 to read an imperial greeting to the people of 
 Lystra, inviting them to visit Rome and witness 
 the grand triumph of Honorius in honor of the 
 downfall of the Goths. The invitation of the 
 Senate was read, and an extensive programme of 
 entertainments, with which the Emperor pro- 
 posed to delight the people. The most impor- 
 tant part of the whole triumph would be the 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 25 I 
 
 gladiatorial games at the Coliseum, in the months 
 of December and January. 
 
 When Telemachus heard the announcement 
 of gladiatorial combats, a shudder of horror ran 
 through his entire frame. Accompanying the 
 painful emotion that filled his breast, as when 
 his father first told him that dreadful tale, came 
 the bold indignation of his manly love for justice, 
 and hatred of cruelty. The timidity of his boy- 
 hood had all left him. He knew no fear of danger, 
 cared nothing for his personal comfort or safety ; 
 but, burning with zeal for the right, and the cause 
 both of humanity and Christianity, he stepped 
 boldly forward, stretched his muscular arm and 
 clinched hand upward toward the messenger and 
 shouted, " The curse of Heaven be upon the Em- 
 peror and his corrupt Court ! God will demand 
 at their hands the innocent blood they shed !" 
 Astonished, for a moment, the royal messenger 
 stood still, while the heroic monk quietly took 
 his departure. His noble countenance and manly 
 bearing cleared an opening. No hand was raised 
 to prevent his escape, but he passed quietly out 
 of their sight before they had time to think of 
 how great an insult had been offered their sov- 
 ereign. 
 
 Telemachus wended his way through the busy 
 and excited city out into the quiet of his desert 
 
252 THE LAST GLADIA TORI A L SHO W. 
 
 solitude. Then, in his hermit cell on the mount- 
 ain side, he fell upon his knees, and poured forth 
 his soul in prayer to God to make him the humble 
 instrument of reproving this abominable wicked- 
 ness. All night long he prayed and read from 
 the old manuscript. Yes, prayed that the God 
 of righteousness would point out for him an op- 
 portunity to rebuke the Emperor himself, and 
 perhaps touch his heart with a sense of the enor- 
 mous blasphemy he was about to commit against 
 the Christianity he professed. Nor were his sup- 
 plications in vain, for, all at once, the thought 
 flashed into his mind that he might go to Rome 
 and entreat Honorius to desist from his proposed 
 barbarities. 
 
 After meditating upon the subject well he de- 
 termined to go, and offer his life, if need be, on 
 the altar of humanity. But few resolutions as 
 noble are recorded in history. To attempt a 
 journey on foot, from the depths of the East to 
 the capital of the West, in Winter, would simply 
 have been pronounced impracticable by any sober 
 thinker. But Telemachus neither thought of the 
 length of the journey, nor of the privations he 
 must endure. His trust was in God, as " his 
 shield and exceeding great reward." After con- 
 secrating himself for the last time in his cave, he 
 wrapped his sheep-skin coat around him, put on 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 253 
 
 his sandals, took his staff in his hand, and turned 
 his face westward, singing, as he went, the con- 
 soling words of the twenty-seventh Psalm: 
 
 " What foe have I to fear while God is my salvation ? 
 Of whom am I afraid while he sustains my life ? 
 The same Almighty hand that shields me in temptation 
 Shall also safely guard me in the deadly strife. 
 
 Though enemies and foes against my life are scheming, 
 And hosts of wicked men most furiously ride, 
 
 My heart shall never fear their angry^weapons' gleaming ; 
 My strength is in Jehovah ; the Lord is on my side." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LAST ^GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 EAR READER, we will now resume 
 the relation we sustained to each other 
 in the first division of this little work, 
 namely, that of fellow-spectators and visitors at 
 ancient Rome. It is our privilege to witness the 
 pomp of the triumph of Honorius. In order that 
 we may see not only the Emperor, but the people, 
 to the best advantage, we will repair to the Mil- 
 vian Bridge, on the Tiber, two miles north of the 
 city. 
 
 Early as it is, the suburbs and streets are filled, 
 and the house-tops covered, the entire distance. 
 Their anticipations are worked up to the highest 
 pitch ; for this is only the third time in a hundred 
 years that they have been honored by the pres- 
 ence of their sovereigns. Preparations for this 
 grand and important occasion have been going on 
 
 for months, both on the part of the citizens and 
 254 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 255 
 
 the Emperor. The prefect of the city, aided by 
 the Senate, had spared no pains to make every 
 provision for the entertainment of the Court and 
 the citizens of the Empire. The Imperial mes- 
 senger had proclaimed the welcome in every prov- 
 ince, and for a week millions, from every quarter 
 of the known globe, had poured, like an inex- 
 haustible torrent, into the capital of the West, 
 until the public buildings themselves had to be 
 used to accommodate the multitudes of people, 
 who otherwise would have been left without nec- 
 essary shelter. 
 
 But here comes the grand procession. The 
 front of it is already on the bridge. The first we 
 see are the guards on horseback ; following them 
 are the magnificent steeds taken from the chiefs 
 of the Goths ; the ponderous armor and harness 
 worn by the giants are strapped to the saddles. 
 Brilliantly does the sun, as it beams forth on this 
 clear Autumnal morning, glisten and flash from 
 armor and lance point. Nature herself is con- 
 tributing her share to the triumph of the Chris- 
 tian Emperor. What comes next t O ! it is the 
 rich spoil of the Gothic camp, borne on the backs 
 of horses and the shoulders of men. What is it ? 
 Why, nothing less than the massy gold and silver 
 stolen from the temples of Greece — the magnifi- 
 cently wrought vessels, and the elegant miniature 
 
256 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 images of gods and goddesses, philosophers and 
 sages, the handiwork of the masters of that clas- 
 sic land — all presenting an imposing spectacle to 
 the wondering populace. Following this are the 
 prisoners — the Goths themselves — the barbarians 
 who dared invade Italy. Here every one stands 
 tiptoe to get a glimpse, if possible, of the men 
 whose name so recently sent a general alarm 
 through the whole Empire. The old warriors, 
 with their heavy bucklers, massy helmets, long 
 swords, and bear-skin cloaks, looked noble enough 
 to shame the effeminate degeneracy of the Ro- 
 mans. They were in no disposition, however, to 
 make any personal comparison. Cheer upon cheer 
 arose from the crowds of unfeeling spectators ; 
 but they were soon frowned into silence by the 
 stern, scarred-looking faces of their prisoners, 
 whose high cheek-bones contributed to their sav- 
 age appearance as much as did their long yellow 
 hair add to their novelty. But now we have a 
 new feature in triumphs. The Senate heretofore 
 had practiced the humiliating ceremony of pre- 
 ceding on foot the Imperial chariot. Stilicho, 
 desiring to treat them with more decent rever- 
 ence — a reverence due to the representatives of 
 the people in any land and age — had permitted 
 them to ride in their palanquins, borne on the 
 shoulders of their slaves. The display is a far 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 257 
 
 grander one indeed, as chair after chair, cush- 
 ioned and draped with purple and gold, contain- 
 ing its dignified burden, passes before our strain- 
 ing vision. Following the Senate is the Court, 
 borne in royal elegance, in gilded carriages or 
 palanquins, on the shoulders of slaves, whose 
 dress was nearly as costly as that worn by their 
 masters. Next to the Court comes a car or chariot 
 of unusual size, drawn by beautiful steeds, decked 
 with ostrich plumes, dyed in the richest colors. 
 Even their harness glistens in the sunlight, on 
 account of the rich gold plating. The wonder 
 of the triumph is a giant statue, or effigy, of Ala- 
 ric, standing erect upon this car, and chained so 
 as to retain its upright position, with golden chains 
 of enormous size. The armor, from head to foot, 
 is richly plated over with pure gold. The mock 
 triumph of the Gothic King called forth one of 
 the most deafening shouts of exultation that rang 
 from that motley and cowardly crowd of specta- 
 tors during that whole day of wild enthusiasm. 
 They could shout at and mock the image of the 
 man whom they had not the courage to meet in 
 personal combat. But here comes the Emperor 
 himself The Imperial chariot is drawn by splen- 
 did horses, caparisoned in the most gorgeous 
 manner. Seated by the side of the young, but 
 virtuous master of the West, was the great 
 17 
 
258 TF^E LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 Stilicho. Each of them are clad in full Roman 
 armor, except their helmets, in the place of which 
 both are crowned with wreaths of laurel. While 
 the people are delighted at the presence of their 
 sovereign, we are sickened by the sight which 
 follows. Chained to the chariot with heavy chains 
 of gold is a beautiful woman. With weary steps 
 she follows the enemy of her husband. Her long 
 golden hair is far more to be admired than the 
 rich jewels that deck her person — heaped upon 
 her in cruel mockery by her captors. Her stately 
 mien, fair and ruddy complexion, large blue eyes, 
 and sorrowful countenance, excited the admira- 
 tion, but still more the pity of every true Chris- 
 tian. This northern beauty was the wife of Ala- 
 ric. On one side, tightly grasping his mother's 
 hand, walked a lad of about ten Summers — 
 scarcely old enough to feel his misfortune. Upon 
 the other side walked an attendant, bearing in 
 her arms a child too young to endure the fatigue 
 of the weary march. A sad, sad sight indeed ; 
 yet such were the scenes usually witnessed at a 
 Roman triumph. The great army, with its cav- 
 alry and infantry, in blazing armor, burnished for 
 the occasion, brought up the rear. 
 
 Let us hasten through a by-way to the city, 
 and, having reached it, find our way through the 
 crowds to the Forum. We reach it just as the 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 259 
 
 Imperial chariot is about to pass under the Arch 
 of Triumph, erected of beautiful marble, just in 
 front of the entrance. This arch had been erected 
 specially in honor of Honorius, and on it was cut 
 an inscription declaring the total defeat and de- 
 struction of the Gothic nation. At the entrance 
 of the Forum, Honorius and Stilicho dismounted 
 and ascended the magnificent throne, built ex- 
 pressly for this triumph. The prefect of the city 
 here introduced the two distinguished visitors to 
 the citizens. The Emperor then advanced, and 
 expressed his gratitude to the people for their de- 
 votion, congratulated them upon the success of 
 the Roman arms, commended to them the won- 
 derful skill and generalship of Stihcho, and some- 
 what egotistically spoke of his own coolness and 
 intrepidity during the flight and the siege of Asta. 
 This harangue was enthusiastically received, amid 
 a storm of applause from the servile crowd of 
 spectators. 
 
 The prefect announced the order for the cele- 
 bration of the triumph — including the visits of 
 the Emperor to the several churches, the Senate, 
 and especially remembering to announce the pub- 
 lic games and gladiatorial combats to be given 
 by Honorius at the Coliseum for the entertain- 
 ment of the people. 
 
 Amidst the general joy with which this news 
 
260 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 was received, the Christian poet, Prudentius, as- 
 cended the royal rostrum, and, in the presence 
 of the vast assemblage, exhorted the Emperor to 
 abolish this cruel scandal, and to extirpate the 
 horrid custom, which had so long resisted the 
 voice of humanity and religion. The language 
 of his eloquent verse was : " Let no one die again 
 to delight us with his agonies ! Let the odious 
 arena, content with its wild beasts, give man no 
 more for a bloody spectacle. Let Rome, vowed 
 to God, worthy of her prince, and powerful by 
 her courage, be powerful, also, by her innocence." 
 The weak Honorius paid but little attention to 
 the pathetic poem of Prudentius. The vulgar 
 crowd hooted his ^'effeminate delicacy I' which 
 happened to be heroism second only to such as 
 we shall yet witness in this chapter. Those he- 
 roic lines remain as the richest epitaph that could 
 have been written to his memory. 
 
 The first few weeks of the Emperor's residence 
 in Rome were spent in visiting the shrines of 
 the apostles, in making liberal presents to the 
 churches, and in associating himself with the 
 clergy. The numerous details of this protracted 
 triumph it is needless for us to mention. During 
 his residence of several months in the city Ho- 
 norius did all he could to win the favor of the 
 Church, the respect of the Senate, and the love 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 26 1 
 
 of the people. That part of this great celebra- 
 tion in which we are more particularly interested 
 is the public games. 
 
 It is late in the month of December. The 
 crowds of people sojourning in the city, instead 
 of decreasing, have increased. Upon the ap- 
 pointed day we, with the rest, repair to the 
 Coliseum. We find every thing prepared with a 
 magnificence worthy of a spectator more noble 
 and patriotic in arms than Honorius. The royal 
 chair is canopied with rich purple, embroidered 
 with heavy gold. The seats prepared for the 
 Court are cushioned with beautiful crimson. The 
 velum, or awning, stretched from wall to wall, is 
 new, and finer than ever before. As the sun's 
 rays strike through it, a shadow of variegated 
 checker-work, of beautiful colors, is thrown over 
 the whole audience. The Emperor being seated, 
 the signal for a chariot race is given. One of the 
 lower gates is thrown open, and a chariot, drawn 
 by two fiery horses, is driven in by a charioteer 
 gaudily dressed, standing erect in his gilded car- 
 riage. Presently another chariot enters, and both 
 drive to the starting-point, where the signal is 
 given. Now they go ! See how the white sand 
 flies from beneath their hoofs ! The coursers 
 strain every muscle ; the drivers can barely hold 
 them. The bronzed wheels flash in splendor 
 
262 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 whenever a strong ray of sunlight strikes them. 
 Faster and faster they go, until the white foam 
 .drops from the horses' mouths, and their nostrils 
 glare with a redness that tells of the effort they 
 are making. Now the hindmost chariot is gain- 
 ing — yes, and will pass the other, but — O ! the 
 driver, just as he is turning the curve, is thrown 
 from his chariot. He is dragged for a minute, 
 bruised and bleeding, through the sand, at a ter- 
 rible speed. At last he loses the reins. The 
 horses tear round the arena at a furious rate, 
 turning the chariot over and over, scarcely giving 
 the other chariot a chance to escape through the 
 gateway, which is opened, and closed again as 
 quickly as possible. At last the runaway racers 
 become entangled, are thrown on the ground, and 
 the attendants immediately rush to the rescue. 
 With difficulty .they are liberated from the en- 
 tanglement of harness and chariot, and, with 
 many a deep gash in limb and flank, the beautiful 
 chargers are led from the arena. So ends the 
 chariot race, much to the disappointment of the 
 spectators. 
 
 But while we look, the decoration of the arena 
 is suddenly changed. Out of the white sand — 
 automatically it would seem — rise rocks and 
 craggy projections, forming caves, hillocks covered 
 with a growth of copse, and, here and there, even 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 263 
 
 a large tree of tropical growth spreads its branches 
 over the grassy verdure around it. A huntsman, 
 or gladiator, armed only with a short sword, en- 
 ters the gateway. Calmly and courageously he 
 wends his way through the artificial forest, until 
 he reaches an opening surrounded by numerous 
 rocks and caves. Grasping his sword tightly, he 
 makes a general reconnoiter, to be sure that his 
 savage enemy is not lurking somewhere undis- 
 covered. At this instant a hoarse and continued 
 growl arose from the mouth of one of the caves. 
 This soon deepened into a roar, and a huge lion 
 sprang suddenly from his cave at the gladiator, 
 who skillfully avoided his shaggy foe, and placed 
 himself in position to await a second bound. 
 Presently the lion, after making a circuit over the 
 rocks, crouched and sprang upon the gladiator. 
 The trusty blade did its work. The monster fell 
 back mortally wounded. Regaining his feet, he 
 lifted his head toward the excited spectators, 
 uttered one pitiable cry of despair, and then, 
 rushing toward the mouth of the cave, fell head- 
 long and expired. The dead lion was dragged 
 from the arena, and a bow, with a quiver of arrows, 
 thrown to the brave huntsman. The nervous 
 strain of the combat was a severe one. Large 
 drops of sweat stand on his bare forehead, his 
 heart palpitates, yet he is fresh and strong, and 
 
264 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 the Romans, though Christians now, know but 
 little mercy. In a moment the half-dozen caves 
 in the center of the arena disgorged, so to speak, 
 as many howling wolves, whose hunger added 
 much to their natural ferocity. At first the 
 hunter was somewhat unnerved, but, retreating 
 to a little elevation, fitted an arrow to his bow 
 and sent it to the heart of one of the howling 
 wolves, killing him instantly. The others, appar- 
 ently infuriated at the death of one of their num- 
 ber, obeying their savage instinct, rushed toward 
 the archer, bounding and clambering up the rocks. 
 Two of them the skillful bowman sent tumbling 
 backward with his fatal shafts. He fitted an 
 arrow for a third ; but the dreadful need of a 
 quick shot rendered the shaft useless, for, instead 
 of reaching the heart of the beast, it had swerved 
 from its course, and only made a flesh wound, 
 which so infuriated the wolf that it instantly 
 sprang right up the crag, till it stood face to face 
 with the gladiator. Arrows were of no use now. 
 No retreat was at hand. The trusty sword was 
 all that could save him, As the infuriated beast 
 sprang at him he struck. The blow was inaccu- 
 rate. It only added another flesh wound, increas- 
 ing the rage of his foe. The next, however, was 
 fatal, and the hungry savage dropped dead ; but, 
 as it died, it sent up a cry so shrill, so pitiful, as 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 265 
 
 if for help, that its two remaining companions, 
 who in the mean time had been howUng around 
 the foot of the rock, made one desperate effort to 
 chmb, and their hold was sure. They clung to 
 the crag, and both mounted it as the swordsman 
 sprang from the opposite side to the plain below. 
 Scarcely had his feet reached the sand when 
 both of the frantic beasts were upon him, their 
 sharp claws tearing long gashes in his back, as 
 they tumbled and fell over him. At first he 
 reeled himself, and almost fell, but regained his 
 equilibrium just in time to dispatch the first 
 monster that assailed him. But now came the 
 struggle. Before the gladiator could extricate his 
 sword from the body of his antagonist, the re- 
 maining wolf sprang upon him from behind and 
 bore him down. Wolf and man rolled over and 
 over in the sand, until the man at last seized the 
 throat of the beast with a grip of despair that 
 nearly strangled the monster. The gladiator re- 
 gained his feet, and, a moment later, struck down 
 the wolf, which again assaulted him. Cheer upon 
 cheer went up from the thousands of spectators, 
 and even the Emperor clapped his hands, and 
 commanded the victor to be brought before him. 
 Bleeding and torn, the gladiator lay upon the 
 sand, so weak from loss of blood that he was un- 
 able to walk. The attendants raised him in their 
 
266 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 arms and bore him into the presence of Honorius, 
 who with his own hand placed a wreath of laurel 
 upon the brave man's brow. He was then re- 
 moved to the quarters for special treatment by 
 order of the young ruler. His wounds were only 
 flesh wounds, and were not fatal. 
 
 After the excitement had subsided, the prefect 
 of the city announced that the Emperor, in his 
 courteous liberality, had provided for their enter- 
 tainment a genuine gladiatorial show, to be given 
 on the first day of January. The crowd, already 
 intoxicated by the blood they had seen, wildly 
 applauded this generous offer of their sovereign 
 as they retired for that day from the old Col- 
 iseum. . . . ..... 
 
 The great day of celebration has arrived. It is 
 one of those mild, sunny days seldom known in 
 Winter out of Italy. The first day of the new 
 year (404) is to be one of imperial solemnity. A 
 solemnity not worthy of a Christian prince, it 
 would seem ; but the all-wise God, who overrules 
 the wicked councils of men, and turns their folly 
 into his glory, is to preside in the place of Hono- 
 rius, on this occasion, at the Coliseum. The 
 truth of this we will see further on. As is our 
 custom, we find our place among the pushing, 
 jostling crowd, as eager as any to see this abomi- 
 nation, though, while our eyes look at, our hearts 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 26/ 
 
 turn from it. The decoration for this show has 
 been very lavish. Large representations of glad- 
 iators have been beautifully painted and hung in 
 every conspicuous place. The young Emperor, in 
 restoring this pagan institution, has done it with a 
 magnificence scarcely surpassed by any of the 
 C^sars. Neither expense nor ingenuity has been 
 wanting ; for, at this time, a new^ order of enter- 
 tainment has been adopted, and a "military dance" 
 introduced, resembling the tournament of the 
 chivalric ages. Why such a name should have 
 been given to a tilt or engagement on horseback 
 we are unable to discover. However, the signal 
 for attention is given, and the entertainment is 
 opened by the entrance of two knights in full 
 harness on horseback ; their only weapons are 
 blunt lances, or spears, of considerable length.. 
 They take positions at opposite sides of the arena, 
 then, dashing their spurs into their steeds, rush 
 together, meeting with a terrible crash. The 
 spear of each is caught by his opponent's buck- 
 ler, and the horses are thrown back upon their 
 haunches by the severity of the shock. Return- 
 ing again to their starting-points, the same per- 
 formance is repeated. This time the buckler of 
 one of the knights is pierced and broken, and 
 he is obliged to throw it away. None the less 
 daunted by this misfortune, he again prepares for 
 
268 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW, 
 
 a third trial of his skill. The chargers, by this 
 time, have caught, to a certain degree, the spirit 
 of their riders, and swifter than ever before they 
 close together. The knight who had lost his 
 shield now held his lance with such a firmness 
 and precision, direct for his opponent's helmet, 
 that, in spite of all his efforts, the point struck its 
 aim, fairly bursting the girths of the saddle, and 
 precipitating the unfortunate knight, whose lance 
 had missed his aim, backward over and over upon 
 the sand, while his horse ran at a furious rate 
 round the arena. The victor immediately dis- 
 mounted, and placed his foot upon the neck of his 
 fallen foe as a sign of triumph. 
 
 So ended the first tournament, and the arena 
 was cleared for the gladiatorial combat. The ex- 
 cited audience, all expectant, saluted with a sav- 
 age shout the entrance of the two combatants. 
 The game is to be a purely genuine one, after the 
 most ancient and heroic manner of conducting 
 them. The gladiators are dressed in beautiful 
 armor, polished and burnished with unusual brill- 
 iancy. Both are stalwart, muscular men — one a 
 Goth, and the other, one of the tribe of the war- 
 like Alani, captured during Stilicho's campaign 
 across the Alps. The combat proper is to be in- 
 troduced by the use of wooden foils, which are 
 handed them. They cross them, strike, and par- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 269 
 
 ley in mimic battle, each exhibiting his familiarity 
 with arms until somewhat heated and animated, 
 each with a burning desire to overcome the other, 
 when the attendants throw them their swords. At 
 this moment, the infatuated spectators arose in 
 their seats, clapped their hands, and shouted like 
 wild beasts greedy for the sight of blood ; and it 
 would seem, as by a demoniacal possession, that 
 the most sober and worthy spectators, whose 
 Christian purity was unquestionable, were trans- 
 formed into pagans and savages. The clear ring 
 of the combatants' swords, as they clashed upon 
 their armor, brought forth shout after shout, while 
 the fight grew hotter and hotter. The bold Goth, 
 careless of himself as if his shield were impene- 
 trable, closed with remarkable vigor upon his foe ; 
 but in him he found his equal. Again and again 
 both gladiators reeled and regained their footing, 
 until, finally, growing desperate, the two giants, 
 each determined to wipe away the old feud exist- 
 ing between their nations in the other's blood, 
 grasped with a death-grip each other's throat, and 
 would have run each other through and through ; 
 but, just at this moment, a monk, clad only in his 
 sheep-skin cloak, covered with the dust of a long 
 and weary pilgrimage, staff in hand, with his 
 strong arm, cleared a way through the furious 
 multitude, burst through their almost impenetra- 
 
2/0 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 ble crowds, sprang into the arena, threw himself 
 between the combatants, snatched the blade of 
 one from his hand, and hurled it across the arena ; 
 the other he sent reeling backward, so that he 
 almost fell. 
 
 There stood Telemachus, with outstretched 
 hands, like an angel of peace let down from 
 heaven, rude as was his manner. Astonished, the 
 gladiators for a moment stood spell-bound, while 
 the monk, with upUfted hand, rebuked Honorius 
 for his ungodliness. 
 
 "O, Emperor of Rome! Thou that hast so 
 shamefully blasphemed the God of the Christians, 
 hast brought a reproach upon his holy Church, 
 hast restored the games of pagans and savages. 
 Thou, like Belshazzar of old, hast been 'weighed 
 in the balances and found wanting!' May God 
 forgive thee for this sin !" 
 
 The indignant spectators, interrupted in their 
 fiendish sport, at once rushed down upon this 
 hero of the desert, crying, " Down with him !" 
 " Down with the fool !" " Down with the insult- 
 ing villain !" And as a herd of wolves, deprived 
 of their expected prey, rush upon one of their 
 own number, so this furious mob stoned and beat 
 this messenger of God, just as the Jews stoned 
 Stephen, the first martyr of Christianity. 
 
 Telemachus, overwhelmed under a shower of 
 
J 
 
 THE GOTHIC WAR. 2/1 
 
 stones, fell, the first martyr in the cause of hu- 
 manity. The gladiators, whom he sought to sep- 
 arate, completed the foul act by plunging their 
 swords into his already mangled body. The ob- 
 ject of his journey — yea, of his life, was attained. 
 The purity of his young and noble heart could 
 understand fully the horror of the abuse which he 
 overthrew in his death. His conscience, pure 
 and unseared by seclusion from a cruel and sinful 
 world, could not bear such inhumanity ; for duty 
 called him to rebuke wickedness, though he found 
 it in high places. 
 
 The commanding voice of Stilicho soon quieted 
 the tempestuous uproar into silence, and the 
 young Emperor, rising from his seat, with tears in 
 his eyes, his heart full of emotion at the sight of 
 so unselfish an act of heroism, pronounced an 
 edict, proscribing forever the gladiatorial games, 
 and banishing all professional gladiators from the 
 Empire. 
 
 In this act, Honorius, though commonly called 
 weak, proved himself to possess a heart of love 
 and pity such as is seldom possessed by a prince. 
 Nor was he a coward ; for, in the face of the mill- 
 ions of pagan citizens of the Empire, soon after 
 this first memorable edict had gone forth, he is- 
 sued a second, nearly as great as the first, pro- 
 hibiting the worship of the heathen deities, and 
 
2/2 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 ordering their statues to be broken. These two 
 are a more lasting diadem wherewith to crown the 
 memory of his life than a whole galaxy of victories 
 won by waging war upon his fellow-men. 
 
 But Teiemachus, the monk who happened to be 
 a hero, was the noblest character of all the early 
 Church. Thousands died for their faith when 
 persecution came ; but Teiemachus voluntarily of- 
 fered himself up, a libation upon the altar of 
 justice and an advancing civilization. His blood 
 was the last ever shed in the arena. With it he 
 extinguished the crime of six centuries, and 
 washed away that abomination from the face of 
 the earth. 
 
 Every great sin has been atoned for in blood. 
 Such was the order of the Jewish law — such was 
 the order of Redemption, for Jesus Christ stepped 
 in between us and eternal ruin, caught us in the 
 arms of his infinite mercy, and, in saving us, died, 
 like Teiemachus, at the hands of a rabble. So it 
 was that the death of our hero was more useful to 
 mankind, to the Church, and to God than was his 
 life. Soon his memory was respected, and his 
 name venerated, by those who rashly took his no- 
 ble life. Humanity, though it may neglect its 
 heroes in their own generation, fondly looks back 
 to their worthy conduct, and with delight records 
 their names and their history. 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 2/3 
 
 Yet posterity has erected no monument, conse- 
 crated no temple to the only martyr-monk who, 
 for the sake of humanity, happened "to forget" 
 himself "into immortality."* 
 
 * On "Last Glad. Show," see Theodoret, Bk. V, chap, xxvi 
 (Bohn's Eccl. Library) ; MoiTtalembert — Monks of the West, Vol, 
 I, and Gibbon, chap. xxx. 
 
 i8 
 
^L 
 
 c^^a 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 m 
 
 PFl 
 
 m 
 
 W- 
 
 
 »;| 
 
 N this closing chapter we propose only to 
 follow our three remaining heroes to their 
 last resting places, where friend and en- 
 emy, Roman and barbarian not only find a com- 
 mon home and a common end, but a just reward 
 at the hands of the all-wise and righteous God, 
 who rewards and punishes according to the deeds 
 done in the body. 
 
 Stilicho, impressed with the necessity of making 
 peace with so formidable an enemy as Alaric, of- 
 fered him his friendship, and at the same time the 
 command of the Western Illyricum. Before the 
 stipulations of the treaty could be concluded, 
 however, the Vandals, under their leader Rada- 
 gaisus, marched into Italy. Although his appoint- 
 ment had not been confirmed, Alaric, true to the 
 faith Stilicho had placed in him, remained neutral 
 until the Roman legions, under the command of 
 274 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 2/5 
 
 their incomparable commander, had entirely over- 
 come Radagaisus, and driven his barbarian hordes 
 beyond the Alps. The Gothic King then pre- 
 sented a bill of the heavy losses he had sustained, 
 unnecessarily, at the hands of the Romans by their 
 delay in consummating a peace. But, at the same 
 time at which he made these requisitions, he 
 professed himself willing to espouse the cause of 
 Rome, and to become the soldier of Honorius. 
 This polite intimation oh the part of Alaric as 
 to his wants was easily understood by the keen 
 statesmanship of Stilicho. He at once assembled 
 the Senate, presented the case to them in all its 
 particulars, and submitted to their consideration 
 the choice of peace or war; for he confidently 
 asserted his knowledge of the hostile intentions 
 of the Goths, whose ranks had lately been refilled 
 by multitudes of barbarians who had swarmed 
 down from the North and flocked under the 
 standard of Alaric, After long opposition, Stil- 
 icho compelled the Senate to grant the payment 
 of a subsidy of four thousand pounds of gold to the 
 barbarians as the purchase of the peace of Italy. 
 This very measure proved the death-warrant of 
 Stilicho. Olympius, one of the ministers of the 
 Court, who was envious of the power of the gen- 
 eral, took this opportunity to plot his ruin. By 
 degrees he ingratiated himself into the favor of 
 
276 THE LAST G LABIA TO RIAL SHOW. 
 
 the young Emperor, and succeeded in convincing 
 him, by a base deception, that Stilicho was in 
 league with the Goths, and sought to put a period 
 to the life of his sovereign in order that he might 
 elevate his own son to the imperial .dignity. 
 
 Honorius, consequently, retired from Rome to 
 the secure fortress of Ravenna. On the road 
 thither, Olympius prompted him to the execution 
 of a dark and bloody conspiracy ; for, on their 
 arrival at the camp of Pavia, Honorius made an 
 address to the troops inciting them against Stili- 
 cho. At the first signal, the friends of the brave 
 general who commanded the legion were massa- 
 cred. Among them were the most illustrious 
 officers in the Empire. Many lives were lost, 
 many houses plundered, and a fearful sedition 
 raged until evening. 
 
 When the news reached Stilicho he assembled 
 a council of his worthy generals, who were ready 
 to be involved in his impending ruin. But hesi- 
 tation and gloomy apprehensions filled his mind ; 
 and, in spite of the impetuous call of the assem- 
 bly for arms, he delayed until it was too late. His 
 confederate, impatient at his hesitation, retired 
 from his tent.' At the hour of midnight, a noted 
 Goth named Sarus forced his way into the camp, 
 cut down Stilicho's faithful body-guard, entered 
 the general's tent, where he fortunately lay aivake 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 2/7 
 
 meditating on his approaching end. He suc- 
 ceeded, with difficulty, in making his escape, and, 
 after issuing a last and generous admonition to 
 the cities of Italy to shut their gates against the 
 barbarians, in despair for his safety, he made his 
 way speedily and alone to Ravenna, which was 
 already in possession of his greatest enemy, 
 Olympius. 
 
 Stihcho entered a Christian church, and sought 
 safety at its altar. The Court was soon informed 
 of this fact, as the confederate of Olympius, Count 
 Heraclian, with a troop of soldiers, appeared be- 
 fore the church of Ravenna at day-break. Not 
 wishing to violate the rights of sanctuary openly, 
 he practiced a deception upon the bishop, to whom 
 he solemnly swore that the mandate of the Em- 
 peror only directed them to secure the person of 
 Stilicho. But, no sooner had the unfortunate 
 general surrendered his person, and crossed the 
 threshold of the church, than Heraclian produced 
 a warrant for his execution. He bore his fate 
 with resignation and calmness. The friends who 
 had collected, and were about to make a useless 
 interference, he persuaded to be peaceable, and 
 with a firmness not unworthy of the last of the 
 Roman generals, he submitted his neck to the 
 sword of Heraclian. 
 
 Such, my dear reader, is the ingratitude of the 
 
278 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 world. When it crucified its Savior, whom could 
 you expect it to regard ? Nor is ingratitude con- 
 fined to courts or nations, but it is just as preva- 
 lent in our every-day life. Still, if we love our 
 neighbor as ourselves, Christ, who suffered so 
 great ingratitude, and who can sympathize best 
 with us, will reward us hereafter. 
 
 Alaric, impatient at the delay of the imperial 
 authorities in the payment of the four thousand 
 pounds of gold, again pressed his claim, offering 
 them peace or war for their choice. The insolent 
 ministers disdained to negotiate a treaty with an 
 invader and barbarian, who paid a just tribute 
 of sincere praise to the noble heroism and mas- 
 terly generalship of the now infamous, as his ene- 
 mies were pleased to think, Stilicho. Through 
 some secret conspiracy, they excited a universal 
 massacre of the friends of Stilicho and the families 
 of the Goths in every city in Italy. 
 
 Terribly incensed at the outrage, Alaric passed 
 the Alps and the Po, plundered all the cities of 
 that part of the Empire, passed in sight of the 
 palace of Honorius at Ravenna, bent his course 
 southward along the shores of the Adriatic, thence 
 across to Rome itself And the haughty Romans, 
 who had not beheld a foreign foe before their 
 gates for six hundred and nineteen years, looked 
 down upon the barbarians with an insolent con- 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 2/9 
 
 tempt of which they afterward repented. When 
 famine began to stare them in the face they sent 
 a deputation to Alaric, telling him that they were 
 willing to capitulate fairly, and upon any terms 
 whereby the Roman dignity would be preserved ; 
 but if he were not willing to offer such terms he 
 might prepare to meet an innumerable army, ex- 
 ercised in arms and animated by despair. With 
 quite a hearty laugh, Alaric replied, " The thicker 
 the hay, the easier it is mowed." He then con- 
 descended to fix as the price of his retreat from 
 before Rome : First, the surrender of his wife 
 and children. Second, all the movable gold and 
 jewels in the city; and, third, fhe liberation 
 of all the slaves who could prove their claim 
 to the name of barbarians. The ministers of 
 the Senate, with a more suppliant tone than 
 that assumed at the beginning of the conference, 
 asked: "If such, O King, are your demands, 
 what do you intend to leave us T " Your lives !" 
 sternly responded Alaric. Terror-stricken they 
 left his tent; but soon returned and obtained a 
 short suspension of arms ; during which more 
 easy terms were agreed to by the conqueror. 
 Among the vast treasures of wealth donated to 
 the Goth, none was so rich or so dear as his 
 family. They were all that he himself wanted 
 from the Romans; but after they had been 
 
28o THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 restored he thought it necessary that his soldiers 
 should receive something for their privations, and 
 into their hands he placed the rich ransom that 
 had been donated to him. 
 
 Alaric withdrew his troops to the fruitful prov- 
 ince of Tuscany, where he was joined by Adol- 
 phus, his brother-in-law, with a hundred thousand 
 men, whom he had led from the banks of the Dan- 
 ube. Beside this vast army the barbarian forces 
 were strengthened by the accession to their num- 
 bers of forty thousand slaves, who had been de- 
 livered by the stipulation with the Roman Senate. 
 
 The King of the Goths now again renewed his 
 entreaties for a treaty of peace. But all his 
 efforts were in vain. The messengers sent by 
 him to the Court of Honorius were killed, and the 
 haughty Olympius heaped injury upon insult to- 
 ward Alaric, until forbearance ceased to be a vir- 
 tue ; and the Goths again besieged Rome, effected 
 an entrance, made Attains, the prefect of the city, 
 the Emperor, and had the promotion ratified by 
 the Senate. Attains, however, proved to be in 
 no wise the sovereign that Italy then needed, and 
 Alaric, who had turned king-maker, degraded 
 him, and offered to restore the purple again to 
 the helpless Honorius. But Honorius, finding 
 that Attains had been disgraced, and that the 
 Senate were favorable to him, himself resumed 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR. 28 I 
 
 authority, and rejected all offers of peace from 
 the Goth. His Court, too, swore implacable war 
 and hatred against the invaders ; and the conse- 
 quence was that Alaric again, a third time, 
 marched upon the Eternal City, forced an en- 
 trance at midnight, and delivered it up for three 
 days to be sacked by his soldiers ; yet the Chris- 
 tian Goths did not so much as enter one of the 
 churches, or disturb a single pound of plate from 
 their treasuries. Heaven itself approved their 
 actions, for, in the midst of the conflagration, the 
 proud Forum, with its innumerable statues of 
 gods and heroes, was leveled to the dust by a 
 stroke of lightning. 
 
 The conqueror of Rome now enjoyed for a while 
 the kingdom he had founded ; but, having reached 
 Southern Italy, was suddenly taken sick, and died 
 in the flower of his age. His bereaved army 
 lamented in deep sorrow the death of their King, 
 and, as a peculiar sign of their love, they had the 
 river Busentinus turned from its course, and a 
 sepulcher constructed in its bed. This they 
 adorned with trophies of Rome, and the armor 
 and sword of the great King. After the body of 
 Alaric had been deposited in this sacred spot 
 the river was again restored to its natural chan- 
 nel, to flow on forever over the grave of the Goth. 
 In order that the place of interment might never 
 
282 THE LAST GLADIATORIAL SHOW. 
 
 be discovered the slaves who performed the work 
 were all inhumanly massacred. 
 
 Adolphus was at once elevated on a shield and 
 proclaimed King. To him all swore allegiance. 
 He probably was the superior of his predecessor, 
 for, while he possessed the boldness of the Goths, 
 he also had that amiable and pacific, nature char- 
 acteristic of the Roman. He succeeded at once 
 in making peace with Honorius, whose sister, the 
 beautiful Placidia, he married. She and his peo- 
 ple were led to that delightful region in Southern 
 Gaul, where he founded the powerful kingdom of 
 the West Goths. Here, after they had won all 
 Spain by their swords, they settled down to the 
 enjoyments of peace. 
 
 In this summing up it is only necessary to say, 
 that Honorius, after a disgraceful reign of twenty- 
 eight years, died, leaving no heir to his diadem. 
 His memory was but little respected, and his 
 empire fell into the hands of a usurper. 
 
 My dear reader, as the best of friends must 
 part, so must we. Our visit to the Old World 
 has been a long one, and still we are unsatisfied. 
 We would linger yet longer about the ancient 
 walls of the fallen Empire were it our privilege. 
 During our acquaintance we have pointed you to 
 the patient bravery of the gladiator, the self-sac- 
 rifice of the monk, the bold heroism of the Goth, 
 
THE GOTHIC WAR, 283 
 
 the military genius of the Roman, and the author- 
 ity of a weak Emperor. But this patience, this 
 self-sacrifice, this heroism, this authority, that we 
 have observed in men occupying such different 
 spheres in the varied gradations of life, will not 
 compare with the love of Jesus Christ, who en- 
 dured all these things for our sakes, and then 
 ascended on high, to reign King of kings, and 
 Lord of lords. Farewell ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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