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 their showy armour, imprisoned in barracks, and, if disobedient or troublesome, chastised with the lash and put in irons or the stocks.

The prelude to a beast-fight was frequently rather a “hunt,” amounting to a demonstration of skill in dealing with wild animals which could hardly be said to fight, but which were difficult to capture or kill.  Success with javelins or arrows required somewhat more skill and daring than the “big game” shooting of modern times.  To give a greater air of naturalness to the performance the arena was sometimes temporarily planted with shrubs and trees, and diversified with rock-work.  After the beast “hunt” came the beast “fight,” which might be against bisons or bulls, wild boars or wolves, lions or tigers, a rhinoceros or an elephant.  In such contests the man commonly wore no body-armour.  He took his sword or spear, swathed his right arm and his legs, and went out to meet the enemy in his tunic.  The beasts were either let loose from the end of the arena, or, as later in the Colosseum, they were brought up in cages from their underground dens by means of lifts worked by pulleys.  Indirectly, it may be observed, the mania for this sport produced one distinctly beneficial result, inasmuch as the more dangerous wild beasts became almost exterminated from the Roman world.  The number killed was enormous, hundreds of lions or panthers being produced and slain during the shows of a single festival.  It may be added that on the top of the wall or platform surrounding the arena there was placed—­at least in the Colosseum—­a metal grating or screen, of which the top bar revolved, so that if a wild beast managed to spring so high and take a grip, the feat was of no use to him.  To keep him at a further distance a trench surrounded the arena and separated it from the platform.