openly expressed repulsion, for the barbarous exhibitions of
bloodshed in which the Roman revelled. Outside Jerusalem an
amphitheatre was built by the romanizing Herod, but it was done to the
horror of all orthodox Jews.

[Illustration: FIG. 87.--AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEII.]

[Illustration: FIG. 98--BARRACKS OF GLADIATORS (Pompeii.)]

The performances were of two main kinds; fights between men and
beasts--occasionally between two kinds of wild beast--and fights
between men and men. There was no make-believe about these combats;
they meant at least serious wounds, even when they did not mean death.
Those who fought with beasts might in some cases be volunteers; in
general they were captives or condemned criminals, and it perhaps
hardly needs pointing out that, when St. Paul says he had "fought with
beasts at Ephesus," he is merely speaking in metaphor adapted to the
times. It was not intended that the criminal should escape death, but
only that he should be able to make a fight for his life. Meanwhile
the gladiators who fought with men and not with beasts were in the
position of professionals, who might be slaves, condemned brigands,
mutineers, prisoners of war, or volunteers. The picture drawn by
Byron, although the so-called "Dying Gladiator" which inspired him is
in reality no gladiator but a Gaulish warrior, perhaps fairly
represents one class of combatant, but it represents only one. In the
case of these "swordsmen" a number of successful fights might in the
end secure freedom and something more for slave or prisoner, and a
competence for the volunteer. It was not unnatural that men of courage
and strength should frequently offer themselves for this service.
Their physical training was indeed severe both in the way of exercise
and of diet, and their personal treatment was harsh and ignominious;
but their fame, such as it might be, was wide, and their rewards often
solid. Contemporary writers also complain that, however brutal and
ugly they were, there were always women ready to adore them and to
consider them as beautiful as Adonis. At Pompeii a scribbling calls
one of them "the sigh of the girls." Nevertheless no Roman with much
self-respect, unless forced by a malignant emperor, would bear the
stigma of having appeared as a gladiator, any more than in modern
times one would choose to be known as a professional pugilist.
Moreover these same heroes, after their glorious day in the arena,
were carefully stripped of