The Story of the Roman Amphitheatre

David Bomgardner

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781317531357
• Edition: 2
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Ancient History
• Index: History

This thoroughly corrected, updated and enlarged edition illuminates the epic story of the birth, early development, widespread flourishing and slow decline of that most typical Roman monument, the amphitheatre.

This lucid and accessible work, lavishly illustrated with plans and photographs, breaks new ground with the incorporation of sociological, psychological, historical and even ecological material into the study of the amphitheatre. This edition has been thoroughly revised and updated, including a new interpretation of the phasing of the Pompeii amphitheatre as well as inclusion of the latest information on the other amphitheatres in this monograph.

This volume is a valuable reference work for students and scholars of Roman history and architecture, and this new updated edition will bring this topic to a new generation of readers.

1
The Colosseum

In answer to the request, ‘Name one example of a Roman amphitheatre’, most people would reply, ‘The Colosseum’.¹ It represents, as no other monument, the amphitheatre. The powerful associations and images conjured up by the words ‘The Colosseum’ convey both the majesty and might of the Roman empire. It dominates the space it occupies, towering above the surrounding streets and buildings. It is at once both a symbol and a metaphor for the imperial power of the Roman empire that dominated the ancient Mediterranean world. The story of the amphitheatre and its spectacles from their origins through the zenith of their development and into the decline and eventual fall provides a unique insight into the evolution and fall of the Roman empire itself (Figure 1.1).

Figure 1.1 Colosseum (Flavian amphitheatre), Rome: the interior of the monument and the substructures surviving in the arena.

Source: Photograph by author.

‘While stands the Coliseum [sic], Rome stands…. When Rome falls, so falls the world.’ These memorable words were written in the eighth century AD.² The term ‘Coliseum’ refered to the colossal bronze statue of the emperor Nero standing 120 ft. high in the vestibule of his palace, the Domus Aurea, on the Velian Hill.³ After the collapse of the statue, the term ‘Coliseum’ or ‘Colosseum’ became associated with the amphitheatre itself (ca. AD 1000).

It is not hard to understand why this association between Rome and its most famous ancient monument should be so intense. In the fifth century AD the city of Rome fell to barbarian invaders. The towering mass of the Flavian amphitheatre⁴

had impressed itself upon the minds of visitors as a distant, yet powerful, echo of the former greatness of Rome. Throughout the dangerous years of the early Middle Ages,⁵ this mighty monument served as a fortress to some of the most powerful families of Rome. Amidst chaotic political in-fighting between these rival families and their factions, it stood as a crumbling, yet proud reminder of the former glory of Rome. By this time, the amphitheatre had lost its historical context as the Flavian amphitheatre and had become a monument for all ages, the Colosseum.

The popes, after using this structure as a quarry for their own building projects, finally began the process of repairing the crumbling façade of this monument and consecrated the structure to the memory of the Christian martyrs who supposedly died there.⁶ During the Enlightenment the Colosseum figured prominently among the ruins re-examined and copied in the nascent neo-Classical style of architecture. No visit on the ‘Grand Tour’, so popular with the gentry of Europe, would have been complete without an atmospheric, often moonlit, tour of the Colosseum. In the mid-eighteenth century the Italian artist Gian Battista Piranesi made a famous series of prints of the monuments of ancient Rome, including the Colosseum. So impressed was he that he used the sketches of its internal structural details as the basis for imaginative reconstructions of other long-vanished ancient buildings. The Romantic movement of the nineteenth century found in the Colosseum’s crumbling majesty the perfect blend of grandeur, decay and brooding menace, particularly by moonlight, as in Lord Byron’s evocative lines from his verse-drama Manfred.⁷ Even in modern Rome the Colosseum remains one of the few ancient monuments that have not been overshadowed and dwarfed by recent architecture.

The accession of Vespasian and the origins of the Flavian amphitheatre

This monument was the showpiece of the new Flavian dynasty of emperors (Vespasian, Titus and Domitian), who reigned from AD 69 to 98. It was the largest stone amphitheatre in the world and was designed to impress onlookers with the power, magnificence and beneficence of the Flavian dynasty. The need to impress was particularly important. The Flavians had recently come to power after a short, but vicious, civil war. The year AD 69 saw three other emperors (Otho, Galba and Vitellius) all lose their lives in violent circumstances. Vespasian had been successful in picking up the pieces of the shattered fabric of society, but he was now trying to establish his own reign and line of succession on a firm, lasting basis. He was able to offer this hope of stability because he already had two sons, Titus, an heir and, Domitian, a spare, a secure basis for a family dynasty.

The location chosen for the new amphitheatre was most significant. It was built on the site of the renowned Golden House (Domus Aurea) of Nero (Figure 1.2). This fabulous pleasure palace, complete with its own self-contained lake and parkland setting, had been built in the very heart of the city of Rome. After the Great Fire of AD 64, Nero’s original palace, the so-called Domus Transitoria, extending from the Palatine to the Esquiline Hill, was severely damaged. Vast tracts of previously densely populated fire-damaged regions of the city were cleared to make room for his new architectural fantasy, the Golden House.⁸

Figure 1.2 Rome, Nero’s Golden House: sketch-plan of the probable extent of the park, showing the known structures. Ward-Perkins 1981, 60, figure 26.

Source: Copyright Yale University Press.

What had been the private property of Rome’s inhabitants was now turned into a gigantic, private⁹ imperial estate. Huge sums of money and enormous resources were poured into its construction. Every conceivable luxurious convenience adorned it, including dining rooms from whose ivory-coffered ceilings scented water and flower petals fell, and a rotunda in which, if the description given by Suetonius is taken literally, the room rotated all day long. When the palace and its lake and gardens were finished, Nero is reported to have said, ‘At last, I can live as befits a human being’. In one sense Nero’s Golden House may be seen as an attempt to compete with the opulence and majesty of Oriental potentates. Nero’s ‘Royal Palace’, in both its scale and magnificence, befitted the most powerful ruler and the most important political centre in the Mediterranean world.

Symbolic of the self-glorification which this complex represents was the colossal statue of the Sun God, some 120 ft. high, fitted with the head of Nero himself. This stood in the vestibulum of the Domus Aurea. Vespasian replaced Nero’s head on this colossal statue with a radiant head of the Sun god. Hadrian later moved the statue just to the northwest of the amphitheatre.¹⁰ Nero rightly realised that he was one of the greatest rulers of his world and contact with Hellenistic monarchies had taught him the traditions of self-aggrandisement commensurate with such status. Such sentiments were deeply unpopular with the Roman Senate.

Extravagances such as these and a public preference for all things Greek made Nero intensely unpopular with the elite in Rome and the non-Greek portions of the west. When, finally, he was overthrown in a coup d’état, abandoned by the praetorian guards and his palace attendants, he committed suicide. The Golden House (Domus Aurea), however, was incomplete at Nero’s death. Otho, the short-lived emperor (January to April AD 69), authorised a disbursement of 50,000 HS for its completion. It probably served as the principal residence of Vespasian and Titus, but was spurned by Domitian, who built his own palatial complex (the Domus Flavia and Domus Augustana) on the Palatine. The Golden House survived until fire damaged it in AD 104, when Trajan erected his huge Baths complex atop one of its wings.¹¹

In the ebb and flow of power at Rome, each new dynasty had two imperative priorities: first, to establish quickly its own authority and legitimacy, and second, to discredit the previous dynasty, particularly the last emperor of the line. By portraying the previous emperor as an incompetent, debauched, unfit ruler, the new dynasty was putting itself into a stronger position. Vespasian must have wondered if he, too, might not end up as so many of his immediate predecessors had, dead by violence. He had, however, several factors in his favour. First, the previous months of civil war with its roughly 50,000 casualties had exhausted the Roman world. It was ready for peace and stability, almost at any price. Second, Vespasian had two sons: Titus, the elder, an able general like his father, and the younger son, Domitian, still virtually unknown and untried. Two male heirs apparently in good health, with at least one of them of proven able, seemed to bode well for a stable succession. Third, Vespasian’s track record showed proven abilities as an administrator and soldier. In addition, his personal traits of modesty, industry, common sense, good judgement and a strong sense of humour were well suited to the job at hand. Vespasian also had powerful allies among his fellow military commanders, particularly the governor of Syria, Licinius Mucianus, who commanded the powerful strike force that guarded the eastern frontiers of the empire against the Parthians. Although Vespasian was a senator, he came from equestrian Italian stock. He had risen in the military command structure of the empire through his skills as a general. As such, he depended almost entirely upon the good will and support of the legions to maintain his position as emperor.

Vespasian’s choice of a permanent stone amphitheatre as the single monument that would most signify his new imperial dynasty reflected the realities of his power. Vespasian was a soldier’s soldier with a long and glorious military record of distinction. In his early campaigns in Britain, where he distinguished himself as commander of the southern corps of the invasion forces, including the capture of the heavily fortified hill forts of the southwest, he earned triumphal decoration. And later, when he was appointed to the command in Syria-Palestine,¹² where a successful rebellion of the Jews and the threat of a protracted, gruelling guerrilla war made the task thankless and often unattractive, Vespasian proved himself. Thus, with growing support from the eastern army groups of Palestine, Syria, Egypt and the Danube, as well as promises of help from Vologaesus, king of the Parthians, Vespasian received word of th...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication Page
• Contents
• List of plates
• List of figures
• List of tables
• Acknowledgements
• List of abbreviations
• A glossary of selected technical terms concerning Roman amphitheatres
• 1 The Colosseum
• 2 The origins and early development of the amphitheatre
• 3 Imperial amphitheatres
• 4 The North African amphitheatres
• 5 Endings and new beginnings
• Appendix
• Bibliography
• Index