Friday, October 22, 2010
Glossary
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Thursday, August 5, 2010
Circus Maximus
The Marble Stadium of Trajan
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The COLISEUM
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Sunday, May 30, 2010
Chariots - Circus Maximus
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Labels: History
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
CHARIOTEERS
There are indications that chariot-racing was at least from the second century AD the focus of a good deal of magic-working. That binding-spells inscribed on sheets of lead and directed against the charioteers who belonged to the teams which competed against each other in the circus or hippodrome were regularly deposited in these places and in other locations is well attested. It is impossible to give a precise date to the tablets, but some of them will certainly go back to the second century AD. The explanation that Pausanias attributes to an Egyptian for horses panicking at a certain point on the racecourse at Olympia is relevant here, for unless the practice of burying curse-tablets in hippodromes and circuses was well known, it would not have made much sense to have an Egyptian speak of Pelops receiving an unspecified object from a magician and of his having buried it to upset the horses of Oenomaus. The general assumption is that such tablets were written at the behest of a fan hostile to a charioteer or charioteers from a team other than the one the fan favoured or for a gambler who had put his money on another charioteer. It is to be suspected that the charioteers themselves were actively engaged in putting spells on each other. What can confidently be asserted is that long before Christian emperors ruled the Roman world, chariotracing encouraged sorcery.
In the eyes of Christian authors the greatest and in some ways most characteristic of the evils associated with chariot-racing was sorcery. For John Chrysostom chariot-racing is almost a byword for sorcery. In one homily, after berating his congregation for going to the theatre, he turns his attention to the other forms of entertainment that they frequent by asking rhetorically what he is to say of the magic-working of the horse races along with that of the contests with wild beasts. In another homily, he complains that men are quite ignorant of well-known characters in Scripture and cannot say, if asked, how many Apostles there were, but nonetheless have a profound intimacy with the world of the racecourse in the form of its horses and their charioteers; their lives are quite consumed by chariot-racing; instead of spending their life on prayer, they spend it on shouting and disturbances, vile language, battles, pleasures that have no proper place and deeds performed through magic. Another Christian author of the fourth century AD, Amphilochus of Iconium, in a poem written in iambs, describes chariot-racing in the hippodrome as a contest in sorcery (goeteia), not speed. The sorcery that Amphilochus has in mind is that practised by the sorcerers to whom the maddened fans hasten in their insane desire for victory. The sorcerers, for their part, according to Amphilochus, summon up evil demons to help them bring about spills, collisions and deaths.
It would be unwise to discount what John Chrysostom and Amphilochus have to say about sorcery in the hippodrome as Christian propaganda. Their testimony is confirmed by other forms of evidence. Jerome in his Life of Hilarion the Hermit tells of two encounters that Hilarion, a Syro-Palestinian saint, had with the sorcery of the hippodrome. Both episodes are set in Gaza. In one of them a charioteer of that city became so rigid while driving his chariot that he was unable to move his hands or bend his neck to look back. This had happened to him because a demon had struck him. He was brought to his bed, where he lay, able only to move his tongue in prayer. Hilarion told him that he could not be cured until he expressed belief in Jesus and renounced his craft. The charioteer did both of these things and was healed. The story is of interest more for what Jerome takes for granted than for what he explicitly tells us. He does not have to inform his readers that the demon who causes the charioteer to seize up in the middle of the race has been conjured up by someone who does not want the charioteer to win, nor that the inability of the man to move any part of his body was precisely the condition that many binding-spells were expressly intended to bring about. As for the man’s having to renounce his craft before he can be saved, that was hardly an idiosyncratic move on Hilarion’s part, but represents the policy of the Church. One of the Canons of the Council of Elvira requires charioteers and dancers to renounce their crafts before they can be treated as believers.
The other story is not about a charioteer, but about a citizen of Gaza and a Christian called Italicus, who raised horses to race them in the hippodrome. He had as his rival a magistrate (duumvir) who was a devotee of the Syro-Palestinian god, Marnas. Because his rival had at his beck and call a magician who was able by the incantations that he addressed to demons both to hold back the horses of his opponents and speed on his own, Italicus approached Hilarion and begged him for help: he did not want to harm his rival, only to defend himself against the man. Hilarion at first thought that the request was beneath his dignity and suggested that Italicus should save his soul by giving the money which he devoted to his chariot-teams to the poor. Italicus replied that it was not a matter of his actually wanting to race horses, but that his position required him to do so; furthermore, as a Christian, he was unable to use magic; he sought help against the adversaries of God amongst the people of Gaza not for his own sake, but for the Church of Christ which they were mocking. Hilarion’s fellow-monks now pleaded with him to help. He acceded to their request and gave instructions that the clay cup from which he drank should be filled with water and handed over to Italicus. The latter took the vessel and with it besprinkled his stable, his horses, his charioteers, the chariot and the starting-gates. Great expectation filled the crowd. When the signal for the start was given, Italicus’ horses flew ahead, while those of his rival were left far behind. Some of the pagans even joined in the applause on Italicus’ side, since Marnas had been defeated by Christ. Italicus’ rivals were furious and demanded that Italicus be punished as a Christian magician.
The lesson to be drawn from the tales that Jerome tells is that magic-working was not only practised by charioteers and the urban masses, but that the rich men who sponsored chariot-teams might engage in it also. A little more of the world in which these patrons of the games lived emerges from a speech in which Libanius denounces young men who are sent to a great city to study rhetoric, but who because of lack of application never bring their studies to fruition. He brings up the part the races played in distracting the young men from their studies: in contrast to diligent students to whom the races were nothing, the only concern of these young men was how such-and-such a charioteer would defeat a rival; a sorcerer (goes), in consequence, who promised the desired result had in their eyes a status higher than a god. He goes on to speak of the continuing fascination that some of the young men had with chariot-racing and with the company of charioteers, even after they had sold the horses that they had bought as a civic liturgy for the chariot-races: they became so absorbed in the races that they judged a day good or bad by the victories or defeats of their favourite charioteers.
Libanius and Jerome not only give us a glimpse of men from the upper class actively engaged in the magic-working of the hippodrome they also conjure up the behaviour of a crowd fully aware that sorcerers were at work and all too ready to come to the conclusion that upset victories represented the triumph of a magician. Behind Jerome’s reference to the call that Italicus’ defeated rivals put up for his punishment as a magician will be orchestrated chants decrying the victorious owner as a magician. Libanius, for his part, makes a telling comparison between the lassitude of the citizen-body when confronted by his complaints about the sorcery that had been directed against him and what happened when a horse or charioteer was thought to have been impeded by sorcery: it was as though the city itself had perished. The suspicion of sorcery in the hippodrome could, accordingly, cause convulsions in the city.
It is not only in the Greek East in the late fourth century that the assumption that sorcery was ever-present in the hippodrome is encountered. Evidence exists that the same phenomenon was visible in Italy one hundred years later. There is from the year AD 507 an extraordinary letter written under the name of the Emperor in the West, Theoderic, by Cassiodorus, a high imperial functionary, to Faustus, the praetorian prefect in Rome in which the writer dwells on the case of a certain charioteer called Thomas, who had come from the East to Italy and whom the Emperor had chosen to reward with a monthly largess to secure his continued presence in Italy. The number of victories Thomas had won was so great that he was called a wizard (maleficus), a charge which we are told charioteers welcomed as a compliment. The writer then comments that where the victory cannot be attributed to the quality of the horses, it needs must be assigned to the wickedness of magic. Successful charioteers are then imagined as a matter of course to have practised magic, a charge which the charioteers, far from rejecting, took a positive delight in, since it added to their fame. The crowd in the Greek East drew the same conclusions to judge from a Byzantine astrological manuscript that contains an excerpt from an astrological writer of the High or Late Empire who had devised a special system for divining winners in chariot racing. The author, an otherwise unknown figure called Theodorus of Alexandria, says that because of a failure to understand the true cause of the victory many or rather almost all judge the winning charioteer to be a magician.
Cassiodorus’s letter and Theodorus refer to the common assumption that it is the charioteers themselves who perform magic. Not all charioteers will have practised on their own behalf. There will have been charioteers who looked to others to perform their magic for them in the conviction that such persons were more effective and powerful magicians than they themselves could ever be. Ammianus records the conviction of a charioteer who falls into this category. The conviction was the result of an investigation in Rome in AD 364 into witchcraft instituted by Apronianus, the praefectus urbi. The charioteer was called Hilarinus and he was convicted of having sent his son, a boy who was just entering adolescence, to a sorcerer (veneficus) to have him taught certain of the more arcane and forbidden portions of the craft of the sorcerer. Hilarinus confessed to his having made the arrangement to ensure that the aid he sought should come from within his own household and so that no one else should be privy to it. He was sentenced to death, but escaped from the rather lax custody of the executioner to a Christian shrine, whence he was dragged forth to be executed on the spot. That it was quite normal for charioteers to have magic performed for them by others is also suggested by the explanation given by Procopius of Caesarea for the facility in sorcery that Antonina, the wife of Belisarius, Justinian’s great general, possessed, which was that both her father and grandfather were charioteers who had plied their trade in Byzantium and Thessalonica and that she had consorted with the sorcerers associated with the paternal side of her family and from them had learned the key elements of their craft. Whatever reservations the reader may feel about the reliability of this information, the notion that charioteers retained their own favourite sorcerers will hardly be Procopius’ invention.
Since charioteers lived in a world in which magic-working was endemic, it is hardly surprising that some of them became adepts themselves. Most of the sorcery they practised will have been directed at other charioteers. The popular charioteer called Athanasius, who was burned to death in Rome under Valentinian after having been caught engaging in sorcery, presumably falls into this category. But the reputation of charioteers as magic-workers also brought them contracts from men who needed sorcery that had no connection with the hippodrome performed for them. In the revelations about magic-working in Rome that followed the arrest of the Campanian haruspex and his allies Ammianus says that three men of the highest rank (clarissimi) were accused of having participated in the sorcery in which the Campanian haruspex and his associates were implicated and of having supported a charioteer called Auchenius for that purpose. They were acquitted and we hear no more of Auchenius. They provided Auchenius with funds, surely not because they were interested in his engaging in sorcery on their behalf against other charioteers and their horses, but because they wished him to employ his craft against their enemies.
Ammianus’ own view of the character of charioteers and their propensity for magic is to be seen in a digression, strongly reminiscent of Juvenal’s denunciation of Roman degeneracy, on the decline in moral standards that had taken place under Valentinian. Ammianus cites as an instance of the decline the readiness of some men, when a creditor pressed them too hard, to have recourse to a charioteer capable of acts of unlicensed audacity, who would make sure that the creditor was charged with being a magician. The unfortunate creditor was then only able to buy his way out of the accusations at heavy expense, after having given an undertaking that he was owed nothing. The passage tells us something about the reputation of charioteers: they were men who felt no moral or legal scruples and lent their hand readily to acts of audacious criminality. That is straightforward enough. What requires interpretation is the embarrassed debtor’s going to a charioteer to get him to charge the creditor who is causing trouble with being a sorcerer. The explanation must lie in the widespread assumption that charioteers were mixed up with sorcery and associated with sorcerers, if they were not sorcerers themselves. They were the sort of men to whom people went if they wanted someone who could plausibly claim to know who was practising magic.
So close was the association in the minds of men between charioteers and magicworking that it even found expression in official edicts. In an edict issued in Rome on August 16th AD 389 under the Emperors Valentinian, Theodosius and Arcadius dealing with the arrest of magicians, charioteers are singled out as those most likely to contravene the edict and as those most likely to murder by clandestine means persons accused of magic under the edict. The punishment to be visited on those who contravene the edict in the latter way is to be death, because the presumption exists that persons who have killed someone accused of murder have done so either to prevent the accused revealing their complicity in his crime or as a pretext for exacting personal vengeance.
Charioteers appear to have been a race apart: their sons tended to become charioteers and they took as their wives women with associations with the theatre. The father and grandfather of Antonina, the wife of Belisarius, are instances of the pattern: a son following in the footsteps of his father and becoming a charioteer. It would in fact be surprising should a high proportion of the sons of charioteers not have been brought up to follow the calling of their fathers. Boys from such a background are not likely to have had too many other opportunities for employment and they will have had the immeasurable advantage over other boys of having been brought up amongst horses and of having learned how to handle them.
Antonina’s mother was a prostitute from the stage. There is nothing in Procopius’ description of the mother as a woman who had prostituted herself from the stage that would have shocked or surprised an ancient reader. In the ancient world, women who appeared on the stage were assumed to be available for prostitution. There would in fact have been considerable surprise had that expectation been belied. Most of them were dancers or women who mimed rôles rather than actresses in our sense. It is women of this sort whom charioteers appear to have married. One degraded and socially isolated calling was of necessity thrown into the arms of another. To find instances besides that of Antonina’s mother and father of actresses marrying charioteers requires inspired guesswork, since direct evidence is just not available. There are, however, from late fourth-and early fifth-century Rome a series of curse-tablets directed against charioteers that not only identify the charioteer by his nickname but also as the son of such-and-such a mother. The mothers have such names as Dionysia, Fortuna, Paschasia and Veneria, names that are reminiscent of the stage-names taken by pantomimes.
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Friday, December 19, 2008
Overview - Colosseum | Days of Wonder
In Colosseum you are a Roman impresario - producing great spectacles in your arena in the hope of attracting the most spectators to your events. You'll earn wealth and glory for each event you run, using it to build ever more ambitious events. Attract the most spectators to one of your events and you'll be granted the title of Grand Impresario, with tales of your extraordinary spectacles acclaimed throughout the empire.
However, to produce larger events that will attract more spectators, you will need to build up your arena's infrastructure.
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Friday, December 12, 2008
THE CELTIC WAR CHARIOT
Reconstruction of a Celtic chariot (after Stuart Piggott). The essence of the vehicle is its light flexible construction designed for speed and easy maneuverability.
The Celtic war chariot impressed a number of observers. Diodorus describes how (for journeys and in battle they use two-horse chariots, the chariot carrying both charioteer and chieftain. When they meet with cavalry in battle they cast their javelins at the enemy and then descending from the chariot join battle with their swords'. The absence of any reference to chariot warfare in Gaul during Caesar's campaigns suggests that as a means of fighting it was no longer of significance. When, however, he crossed the Channel to Britain, he found the chariot much in evidence. He was sufficiently impressed by the novelty of the tactics involved that he gave an extended description of British charioteering, stressing in particular the agility of the charioteer, who, by virtue of long practice, could run out along the chariot pole between the horses and could check and change direction in a moment. The speed with which chariots could move the combatant from one point of the field to another was particularly effective and led Caesar to make the shrewd observation of a military man that 'They combined the staying power of infantry with the mobility of cavalry.' In Britain his chief opponent Cassivellaunus was able to muster 4,000 chariots, which, if used together, must have been a formidable sight.
Sufficient is known of these machines from the archaeological remains of their metal fittings and from depiction on contemporary coinage to appreciate their lightness and efficiency. The chariot was essentially a platform, carried on a pair of iron-tired, spoked wheels circa 0.9 metres in diameter, linked by a pole and yoke to two small ponies. The sides were low double hoops of bent wood or wickerwork, while the front and back were open for ease of access. The war chariot of this kind was a specialized version of the two-wheeled vehicle which became popular in the Celtic world in the fifth century BC and was used from then on in funerary ritual. Its ultimate inspiration may well have come from the Etruscan world. There is no reason to assume that the funerary vehicles were war chariots. Structurally they were similar, but it is more likely that the vehicle used in burial was a parade vehicle symbolizing the high status of the deceased, though it might have been possible to convert one to the other.
Diodorus, as we have seen, says that, when the chariot teams meet with opposing cavalry, the combatants first throw their javelins and then descend from the chariot to join battle with their swords. Caesar adds that the chariots then moved off but returned when necessary to pick up the warrior and carry him to another part of the field. The chariot driver was evidently a skilled person and of vital importance to the well-being of the warrior he served. Diodorus records that the elite 'bring into battle as their attendants free men chosen from among the poorer classes whom they use as charioteers and shield bearers in battle' (Hist. 5.29).
A remark of Pausanius' throws some further light on the battle order. He mentions the trimarcisia (literally 'three riders') as a Celtic fighting unit, implying that the warrior elite were accompanied by two supporters. In this case we are dealing with a cavalry unit. The supporters would stay behind the ranks as battle proceeded ready to dash to their master's assistance if he needed a fresh horse or was wounded and, if he were seriously injured, to take his place in the battle line.
The chariot team and the trimarcisia imply a close and practised relationship between fighting men bound by obligation and honour, much as a knight and squire worked together in medieval warfare. In this context it is possible to understand the depth of the antagonism between the British queen, Cartimandua, and her husband Venutius when she left her husband in favour of Vellocatus, who was described as his 'armour bearer'. Not only was she publicly dishonouring Venutius, but she was weakening him by removing a trained and trusted member of his fighting entourage.
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