Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  Oh! my poor child, son of my Loyse! You for whom I write this account, you will learn from the description that I shall now give you of one of the amphitheaters built by the Romans in our old Gaul, to what excesses of insane prodigality our oppressors, enriched by the labor of their slaves, retorted in order to afford themselves the entertainment of horrible sufferings and the massacre of human beings.

  The arena of the circus of Orange, destined for combats and the spectacle of human torture, was of oval shape, a hundred and fifty paces long, and surrounded with a wall massive enough for the vault, in which the victims intended for the wild animals were huddled together, to be enclosed within its thickness. The wall, raised so high that the elephants could not reach with the tip of their trunks the edge of the wide platform that capped it, was decorated, on the side facing the arena, with fluted pillars which left between them tall niches in which stood magnificent marble statues, and that completely surrounded the vacant space. The wall was crowned by a sort of terrace on which the seats of the first gallery were ranked. As a precaution against the possible leaps of any of the wild animals, and notwithstanding its high elevation above the ground, this gallery was protected by a balustrade of gilded bronze. The seats in this gallery, which ran completely around the amphitheater, were reserved for the richest men and women, the distinguished notabilities of the city. Here also, and facing each other, were the throne of Augustus, Emperor of Rome and Gaul, and the tribunal of the ediles, the magistrates who had the performance in charge.

  Behind the gallery, and, like it, following the oval shape of the arena, innumerable marble tiers of seats rose one above the other. They were reached from the outside through several exterior galleries that ran around the circus, and that communicated with one another by means of a large number of staircases. If it rained, or if the sun grew too warm, the spectators were sheltered by a “velarium.” But that vast cloth covering was not spread on this night. The air was still, not a breath of wind agitated the thousands of wax torches that stood inserted in candelabra of gilded bronze, firmly fixed in the arena itself, entrance into which was gained through four vaulted passages, contrived under the above gallery and tiers of seats, and through the full thickness of the wall. Two of the entrances — one from the north, the other from the south — were reserved for the gladiators on horseback and afoot. The other two entrances — from the east and west — and, like the first two, facing each other, were furnished with iron railings. One was destined for the admission of the wild beasts, the other for that of the slaves who were condemned to be devoured alive. Sylvest and his fellow victims were led into the vault of the latter entrance. Standing close to the iron railing he examined with mournful curiosity all that he could see without.

  The floor of the arena, covered with a thick layer of red-colored sand to the end of subduing the traces of blood, was strewn with a large quantity of shining particles that glittered like gold foil in the light of the torches. Only a certain space was not strewn with sand. It was covered only with a thick carpet provided with a round open space, that fitted over a corresponding opening in a plank flooring beneath. The tank where the crocodile awaited his victims was under this flooring, which was to be removed the moment the wild animals were let loose into the circus. Standing at certain intervals from one another upon platforms adjusted to the inner will around the arena, Sylvest noticed a number of men arrayed like the Mercury of the pagans; they wore on their heads round casques of steel ornamented with two gilt wings. The only clothing of these men was red tights. At their heels also there were little wings. Each of the Mercuries had before him a bronze stove holding burning coals, in which long brass bars were being heated at one end. These bars with their red-hot points served to ascertain whether the slave gladiators, who, seriously wounded, occasionally feigned death to evade continuing the combat, were actually lifeless. The Mercury ascertained the fact by passing his burning bar over the wound. The stinging smart of such a trial rendered impossible the simulation of the insensibility of death. The brass bars were also used to drive forward timid or refractory slaves who retreated before their adversaries.

  Sylvest also noticed along the wall that skirted the arena a number of men with long beards and of gigantic stature clad like Pluto, the pagans’ god of hell. These men stood motionless, like the statues that decorated the niches in the wall. On their heads they wore copper crowns with pointed teeth, their bodies were enveloped in long black togas spangled with silver stars, they leaned upon the handles of their long and heavy blacksmith hammers. They were called Plutos. Their function was to drag the corpses out of the circus and to despatch with their hammers the victims who still breathed.

  Finally, near the two entrances of the gladiators stood the heralds-at-arms, their heads wreathed in scarlet ribbons, ivory staves in their hands, and clad in white chlamyses. Beside each herald-at-arms stood a trumpeter, arrayed in a silver embroidered green jacket with hose of the same color that, however, disappeared almost wholly under the folds of the large leather boots that covered his nether limbs up to the thigh. In their hands, ready to blow into them, the trumpeters held their enormous instruments that were curved like hunting horns.

  Although the amphitheater was crowded to overflowing, still the arrival of the ediles was awaited in order to begin the performances. The calls and whistles testified to the impatience of the multitude. The illumination of the circus imparted a strange and weird aspect to the spectacle. The innumerable torches placed around the arena, and that inundated it as well as the first gallery, together with the tiers nearest thereto, with a brilliant light, left the rest of the spectators in a gloaming. The further removed the upper tiers were from the lower and brightly luminous focus of light, all the deeper was the darkness into which they were cast. The light decreased upward in intensity, so that the thousands of human faces located in the uppermost tiers of the amphitheater resembled, in the pale red and almost dusky reflections of the torches, flitting phantoms that were hardly distinguishable in the dimness, above which shone the stars in the firmament.

  Suddenly a great commotion was noticed in the first gallery, where several reserved seats stood vacant. Sylvest saw the seats immediately taken by his master Diavolus, together with several other seigneurs, friends of his, magnificently dressed like himself and bearing the evidences of having just risen from some prolonged banquet. They wore chaplets of green vine-leaves and carried large rose nosegays in their hands. The noisy entrance of the young set, their loud voices, their continuous laughter, the ruddiness of their faces — all betokened an advanced stage of intoxication. Leaning over the balustrade, seigneur Diavolus examined the amphitheater long and attentively and returned hither and thither many greetings directed to him. Presently, being seated exactly opposite the place where the slaves condemned to the wild animals were kept, and Sylvest being in full view behind the grating of the vault, an accidental glance cast by Diavolus in that direction enabled him forthwith to detect and recognize his slave. He pointed him out to his friends, redoubled his loud maudlin guffaw, and shook his fist at the helpless man, accompanying the gesture with coarse insults.

  There are avenging gods in heaven! The very moment when Diavolus was thus rejoicing over his slave’s fate, the latter heard his name mentioned behind him by one of his fellow victims. He listened and heard a voice say in the Gallic tongue:

  “There must be among us here a comrade named Sylvest — I wonder why he does not answer. I have called him several times by name. — Can he be dead? — Sylvest! — Sylvest!—”

  “Here I am,” responded the slave. “I am close to the railing. I do not wish to leave my place. Come this way if you wish to speak with me—”

  A few seconds later Sylvest saw one of the condemned slaves, a young man who bore on his forehead the brand of having tried to escape from his master, pushing towards him. When near enough to be heard, the stranger said in a low voice in Gallic:

  “Is your name Sylvest?”

  “Ye
s, brother in bondage.”

  “Are you a slave of Diavolus and did you have there a companion named Four-Spices, the cook?”

  “Yes.”

  “Four-Spices charged me with some good news for you. I met him the day before yesterday at market. I have known him long. He is a firm and reliable companion. I said to him: ‘Within two days I shall be free in the thickest of the forest, or condemned to the wild beasts at the approaching performances in the circus. This very night I shall try to escape, and my master has threatened that if I ever again try to flee and he catches me, he will send me to the circus. Will you try to run away with me to-night? If two run away together the attempt has better chances.’ ‘No,’ Four-Spices answered me; ‘I cannot accompany you to-night. But should you be caught and sent to the circus, you will find among the condemned slaves a Gaul named Sylvest; he is a slave of Diavolus; say to him in my name, it will render death sweet to him, that our master invited a large number of young seigneurs, friends of his, to a splendid banquet that is to be given to-morrow, and is to precede the performance at the circus, whither they will repair after their feast. I have long lain in wait for the hour to revenge myself. Sylvest caused me to adjourn my project by assuring me that at the next departure of the Roman army the slaves were to rise in a body and take up arms. Vain hope! It was positively stated yesterday at my master’s house that the Roman army would lake up its winter quarters in Gaul.’”

  “What!” cried Sylvest in great alarm. “Can that news be true?”

  “Yes. The quarters, that were prepared in the suburbs of Orange for the vanguard that was to arrive to-morrow, have been countermanded. — I know that for certain.”

  “Malediction!” observed Sylvest grieved. “When will the day of deliverance arrive, the day of reprisals?”

  “‘The revolt having become impossible’, Four-Spices proceeded to say, ‘I have hastened to revenge myself and Sylvest with one stroke. I bought from a witch a poison that is certain but of slow effect. I tried it on a dog. The poison did not work until after several hours, but it then worked with fearful violence. At to-morrow’s banquet, the most exquisite dishes of honor, that are served only towards the end, will all be poisoned by me, together with the last flagons that will be emptied. According to my experience with the dog, Diavolus and his friends will expire towards the middle of the performance at the circus. Say so to Sylvest for me, in case you have to join him at the circus. Should he have to die before seeing Diavolus and his band expire, he will at least depart certain of being speedily followed by our master and his worthy boon companions. The moment the thing is done I shall try to escape. Should I be re-captured, I have made in advance the sacrifice of my life.’ Upon that Four-Spices left me. I tried to escape alone. My master seemed to have wind of my plans. He surprised me the very moment I was scaling the wall. Three hours later I was taken to the circus. Since we were assembled under this vault I have been calling out for you, so as to fulfil the promise that I made to Four-Spices. By this time he must surely have left his master’s house. I only hope the drug will work, and that the cursed Romans may die like poisoned rats.”

  “Do you see,” said Sylvest to the other condemned slave, “do you see in the gallery, just above the vault of the wild animals, yonder seigneur wreathed in vine leaves, clad in a silver embroidered blue silk chlamys, who is just now inhaling the perfume of the nosegay that he holds in his hands?”

  “I see him.”

  “It is seigneur Diavolus.”

  “Oh! By all the blood that is about to flow!” cried the slave with savage joy. “We also are to have our feast! Laugh, laugh away young intoxicated seigneurs! Cast your lustful glances at the courtesans! — This very evening the marble of the brilliant gallery will hold its dead, the same as the blood-drenched arena. Let us take a good look at one another, face to face, my fine and happy seigneurs, my proud Roman conquerors, — you, from the height of your gilded balcony, redolent with the fragrance of flowers, and dazzling in the brilliancy of your apparel, we, conquered Gauls, we your slaves, from the bottom of our funeral air-hole! — Aye, let us look at one another, face to face, and let us mutually greet one another — condemned to die as we all are, both you and we, to die this very evening! — we in the teeth and claws of wild beasts, and you convulsed by poison! Oh! Vengeance, come swiftly!”

  The slave having in his increasing exaltation raised his voice so high as to be overheard by the other Gauls in the vault, the latter drew closer to him, and he related to them, to the end of rendering their death also sweeter, the vengeance that Four-Spices had prepared. At his words, almost all the slaves, who, somber, silent and resigned to death, had until then been either sitting or lying down upon the slabs of the cavernous vault, rushed forward to the railing in order to contemplate with savage delight the young Roman seigneurs, who, despite their vinous hilarity, carried within them a near and frightful death.

  Sylvest at first shared the savage delight of his fellow victims, but he recollected that his uncle Albinik the mariner, while piloting the Roman galleys on the eve of the battle of Vannes, considered it an act of cowardice unworthy of Gallic bravery and loyalty traitorously to send to the bottom of the sea the Roman craft that bore thousands of Roman soldiers who entrusted their lives to his guidance. However excusable Diavolus’ ferocity rendered it, the vengeance of Four-Spices horrified Sylvest, notwithstanding he would have been the first to give the signal for an armed revolt to break the chains of slavery, exterminate the Romans, and re-conquer the freedom of Gaul. But when was the hour for that revolt to strike? Had he not been firm in the face of death, the tidings he had just learned concerning the continued occupation of Gaul by the Roman army would have removed from his mind all regret to depart from this world.

  “Fortunately, however,” Sylvest thought, “though men may die, the nocturnal meetings of the Sons of the Mistletoe will, thanks to the druids, continue from generation to generation, until the day of justice and deliverance.”

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE GLADIATORIAL COMBATS.

  SYLVEST WAS STEEPED in these reveries when he was suddenly recalled by a loud flourish of trumpets. Blowing into their trumps the trumpeters announced the arrival of the ediles. These magistrates took the seats reserved for them on their own tribunal; and the heralds-at-arms gave the signal for the combat. Again the trumpeters blared through their copper instruments. A profound silence fell upon the vast assemblage, and four couples of gladiators on horseback — professional gladiators — issued from the north entrance into the arena, and were confronted by four other couples who issued from the south entrance. The first set rode white horses caparisoned in green; the second black horses caparisoned in red. Each of the riders was armed with a light lance and a gilded buckler; their bronze casques with lowered visors, that were perforated at the elevation of the eyes by two round apertures, completely hid their faces. Armlets and iron gauntlets covered their right arms; the rest of their bodies were bare except for their gladiator’s aprons that were fastened to their waists by a steel belt from which hung a long sword. Iron-soled sandals protected their feet. These equestrian gladiators by profession were freemen; at least, they combatted voluntarily, like brave men, just as more than once the ancestors of Sylvest had indulged in such combats out of love for sports of valor; they did not combat as slaves who were forced to cut one another’s throats for their masters’ amusement.

  Clinging to the iron bars of their vault, Sylvest and many a one among his companions, became oblivious of their own speedy death; despite themselves they grew interested in the brave combat that was enacted in their presence. Several of the riders were killed, likewise their horses. Not one left the arena scathless. When the combat of the equestrian gladiators was over, the corpses removed from the arena by the Plutos, and the dead horses dragged out by richly caparisoned mules to which they were hitched, there followed an interval of rest.

  During this interval, loud and prolonged roarings resounded from the recesses o
f the vault that was opposite the one in which were the condemned slaves and which was furnished with an iron railing like theirs, only; differently from theirs, partitioned into three separate lodges. Presently the slaves could see four lions walk slowly and with muffled growls into one of the lodges, three tigers into another, and into the middle one so enormous an elephant that his back almost touched the roof of the vault. For a moment dazzled by the brilliant illumination of the circus, the animals did not immediately approach the iron railing in front of them. They remained half concealed in the shadow, from where, however, their eyes could be distinctly seen to glisten. A thrill of horror ran through the slaves; the weaker among them emitted moans and lamentations, fainted away and dropped upon the floor; others hid their faces in terror; still others, gloomy but resolute, looked otherwise unconcerned.

  Again the trumpets blared; the heralds-at-arms let down the barriers; and a large number of couples of gladiatorial slaves — either voluntarily donated or sold by their masters for the sanguinary feast, and forced to combat unto death, — were seen entering the arena. They all wore casques on their heads, but of different shapes; the casques of some were furnished with grilled visors, of others were wholly closed except for the openings before the eyes, of still others wholly exposed in front. Their gladiatorial aprons — consisting of some red or white material and held around their waists by copper belts — left their upper body, and their nether extremities bare. Some of them wore iron armlets on their right arms and iron greaves on their left legs. All held a sword in their right hand, and almost all carried a buckler in their left. With some, this defensive armor was substituted by a net fringed with leaden ball; they carried it rolled around their left arm; it was intended to be thrown over their adversary in order to hamper his movements and smite him all the easier.