We soon reached a large vaulted place, apparently below the Amphitheatre, the sides of which were almost entirely covered with iron-gratings,—while up and down the open space were strolling many strange groupes of men, connected in different capacities with the bloody spectacles of the arena. On one hand, we saw some of the gladiators, who had already been combating, walking to and fro with restless and agitated steps, as if they had not yet been able to recover themselves from the excitement into which their combats had thrown them. Even of such as had been victorious, I observed that not a few partook in all these symptoms of uneasiness; and the contrast thus exhibited to the haughty mien of calmness they had so lately been displaying, af[pg 112]fected me with a strange sense of the irrational and inhuman life these unhappy persons were condemned by folly or necessity to lead. The blood had forsaken the lips and cheeks of others, and from the fixed stare of their eyes, it appeared that their minds were entirely withdrawn from every thing passing around them. Their limbs, so recently nerved to the utmost show of vigour, were now relaxed and unstrung, and they trod the marble floor with heavy and straggling feet. But they that appeared to me to be in the most wretched state, were such as, they told us, expected to be led forth shortly to contend with the wild beasts, in whose immediate vicinity they were now walking. The summons to battle with a human opponent calls into action the fierceness and the pride of man; but he that has to fight with a beast, how should he not be weighed down with the sense of mortal degradation; how should the Reason that is in him not fill him, in such a prospect, with dispiriting and humbling, rather than with strengthening and stimulating thoughts? Howbeit, the Centurion, although the most good-natured of mankind, being rendered from custom quite callous to these things, immediately entered into conversation with some of those unfortunates, in a tone of coolness and unconcern that shocked me the more, because it did not seem in the smallest degree to shock them. Among other topics, he enlarged at much length to one of them upon the best method of evading the attack of a tiger.
“Look ye now,” said he, “there are some that are always for taking things, as they call it, in good time,—these will be pointing their swords before the creature makes his spring; but I have seen what comes of that, and so has old Aspar here, if he would be honest [pg 113]enough to confess it. The true way is to watch his eye when he is setting; let him fairly fix upon his mark, and spring; but at the moment when he is taking his leap, then is the time for the gladiator to start aside, and have at him with a side-thrust. Your side-thrust is the only one I would lay an as upon.”—“Yea,” quoth the grinning Aspar,—“it was always on your cool steady side-thrust, the moment he had sprung, that the great Bisbal used to stake himself. Ha! ha! I was fond of the side-thrust in my day myself; but I got a scratch once—witness my poor leg, masters,—and since then I am a poor feeder.”—“I was always clear for the side-thrust,” quoth Sabinus. “I never saw it fail but twice, and then, to be sure, the men died; but they could have had no chance at all with the frontguard; and it is always something,” continued he, clapping one of the poor expecting gladiators on the back,—“it is always something to have a chance. Be sure you try him with the side-thrust, if it come to your turn to-day.”
The poor creature—he also was an African—lifted up his head on being so addressed, and shewed all his white teeth in a melancholy attempt at a smile; but said not a word in reply, and forthwith became as downcast as before. But the Centurion took little or no heed of the manner in which his advice had been received. He contemplated the man’s figure for a moment, as if to form some judgment concerning the measure of his strength; and after doing the like in regard to some of his companions, commanded Aspar to shew us where the prime lions of the day were reposing.
The Numidian seized a long pole that was leaning [pg 114]against one of the pillars of the vault, and led us to a certain part of the grated wall, behind which was the den, wherein six monstrous Atlantic lions were kept. I looked in upon them with wonder, and not without dread, through the iron net-work of the doors. An imperfect gleam of light descended from above upon their tawny hides and glaring eyes. They, like the gladiators, seemed also to be preparing for the combat; but not like them in fear, nor in cold dewy tremors; for the deprivation of food, which they had been made to suffer in prospect of the exhibition, had roused all the energies of their savage natures; insomuch, that a sulky and yearning rage seemed to spread through every nerve and sinew of their gigantic frames, and to make them paw their quadrangular prison with long and pliant strides. They moved, however, as yet in total silence; so that Boto having fixed his eyes upon them, took courage to approach the grate,—slowly, nevertheless, and with a face that appeared to lengthen an inch for every inch he advanced. But when he had almost touched the bars, one of the huge lions came forward towards him, with something between a growl and a sigh, which made Boto spring backward with great and surprising agility, and with such force, that both he and Xerophrastes, who happened unfortunately to have been standing a little way behind him, were overthrown at all their length upon the floor.
The Centurion, and the limping old keeper, burst into laughter; but Xerophrastes rising, and shaking his garment, said, with some warmth, “Think not, O Sabinus, that any sudden start of fear has thus ridiculously stretched me upon the floor; but attribute the [pg 115]mischance only to this rude offspring of British earth, whose unreclaimed natural feelings are still shamefully affected by natural causes.”—“Castor and Pollux,” quoth the Centurion,—“you take every thing too seriously, my friend.”—“I take it not seriously,” replied he, with admirable gravity. “My philosophy forbids me to do so; it has steeled me against externals.”—“Has it so, in faith!” rejoined the Centurion. “I think some of your equanimity is, in fact, owing to the trifling circumstance, that you have in reality received no injury whatever from your tumble. And as to steeling, let me tell you, I think the iron in the grated door there is much better placed, than in the bosom of a philosopher; for, in the door, it serves the purpose of preventing all harm; but if these animals were once out, all the mental steel of which you boast would not save every bone in your body from being cracked in the twanging of a bow-string.”—“You speak,” replied Xerophrastes, “as if you had embraced the tenets of a sect not worthy of the lovers of wisdom—You speak as if the artificial contrivances of human workmen were all in all. An iron cage may confine wild beasts; but can cages be made for all those misfortunes to which mankind are liable, and against which the force of the mind is their only means of defence? Can you cage the Eumenides, when they come to avenge a life spent in ignoble indolence and degrading luxury?”—“In truth,” replied the Centurion with a smile, “I have never seen the Eumenides except once, and that was in the theatre of Athens. But Boto, perhaps, has been more fortunate. Did you ever see the Eumenides, good Boto?” “No, master,” replied, stupidly, the perplexed Boto, “I never was at the theatre.”
“Ye gods!” exclaimed the Stoic, “of a surety this Britain must have been the last spot rescued from the dominion of Chaos!”
But while we were yet contemplating those enormous animals, and amused with the awkward gestures of Boto, the trumpets were blown in the Amphitheatre, and no sooner did the sound of them penetrate into the vaults, than it was evident, from the bustle which ensued, that the Emperor had returned to his place. With all speed, therefore, did we reascend to the upper air, leaving the gladiators in the act of mustering in their respective quarters of the gloomy vault; and the feeders not less busied in preparing their beasts for the expected combat. Had we not been under the protection of Sabinus, we should have attempted in vain to regain our places; but he being an acknowledged and current authority, known in every department of the Amphitheatre, the door-keepers, and other functionaries, durst refuse him nothing; room was made for us where no room appeared; and, in a word, we shortly found ourselves once more seated by the side of Rubellia and Sextus.