I now come to the gladiatorial combats.  To commence with the preliminaries of the fight, a ring-master, with his long staff in his hand, traces the circle, within which the antagonists must keep.  One of the latter, half-armed, blows his trumpet and two boys behind him hold his helmet and his shield.  The other has nothing, as yet, but his shield in his hand; two slaves are bringing him his helmet and his sword.  The trumpet has sounded, and the ring-master and slaves have disappeared.  The gladiators are at it.  One of them has met with a mishap.  The point of his sword is bent and he has just thrown away his shield.  The blood is flowing from his arm, which he extends toward the spectators, at the same time raising his thumb.  That was the sign the vanquished made when they asked for quarter.  But the people do not grant it this time, for they have turned the twenty thousand thumbs of their right hands downwards.  The man must die, and the victor is advancing upon him to slaughter him.

Would you like to see an equestrian combat?  Two horsemen are charging on each other.  They wear helmets with visors, and carry spears and the round shield (parma), but they are lightly armed.  Only one of their arms—­that which sustains the spear—­is covered with bands or armlets of metal.  Their names and the number of their victories already won are known.  The first is Bebrix, a barbarian, who has been triumphant fifteen times; the second is Nobilior, a Roman, who has vanquished eleven times.  The combat is still undecided.  Nobilior is just delivering a spear thrust, which is vigorously parried by Bebrix.

Would you prefer a still more singular kind of duel—­one between a secutor and a retiarius? The retiarius wears neither helmet nor cuirass, but carries a three-pronged javelin, called a trident, in his left hand, and in his right a net, which he endeavors to throw over the head of his adversary.  If he misses his aim he is lost; the secutor then pursues him, sword in hand, and kills him.  But in the duel at which we are present, the secutor is vanquished, and has fallen on one knee; the retiarius, Nepimus, triumphant already on five preceding occasions, has seized him by the belt, and has planted one foot upon his leg, but the trident not being sufficient to finish him, a second secutor, Hippolytus by name, who has survived five previous victories, has come up.  Hippolytus rests one hand upon the helmet of the vanquished secutor who vainly clasps his knees, and with the other, cuts his throat.

Death—­always death!  In the paintings; in the bas-reliefs that I describe; in the scenes that they reproduce; in the arena where these combats must have taken place, I can see only unhappy wretches undergoing assassination.  One of them, holding his shield behind him, is thinking only how he may manage to fall with grace; another, kneeling, presses his wound with one hand, and stretches the other out toward the spectators; some of them have a suppliant