All the more fundamental was the loss of Roman citizenship or libertas. Upon recruitment new gladiators had to swear an oath, quoted by Seneca the Younger, to ‘be burnt, to be chained up, to be killed’ an similarly by Petronius ‘to endure branding, chains, flogging or death by the sword’. These were surely among the harshest terms of any profession. This bodily capitulation is entirely incompatible with what made a Roman citizen free. Much secondary evidence points to freemen inserting themselves into the gladiatorial ranks, although the figure varies widely from source to source – with a suggestion of up to 50% of gladiators being freemen by the end of the 3rd Century C.E. Despite this discrepancy we can ascertain that freemen did indeed chose such a course, substituting liberty and the rights afforded to a Roman citizen for whips, chains and the extreme likelihood of a painful death
This ultimate submission makes it hardly surprising that gladiators were therefore regarded as the lowest of the low in Roman literature, and symbols of moral degradation. Roman politicians and senators could insult political rivals by casting upon them the slur of ‘gladiator’. Seneca, again, when writing a condolence letter to a friend, who had just lost a son, tries to enliven the recipient’s spirits by reminding him of the boys undetermined future stating ‘he might have squandered all his wealth and ended up a gladiator’. Primary texts like this can provide us with an excellent insight into the Roman psyche. Seneca was a well respected Stoic Philosopher and also a statesman, his letter is not for the benefit for anyone other than his friend with the slight to gladiators nonexistent to them.
Most of the objections to the ultra violence on show at the munera (gladiator games) would be on the grounds that its tastelessness appealed to Rome’s lower classes, and for that reason alone, should be avoided by any upstanding member of society. Christian, and some Stoic, writers naturally objected to the bloodshed in the arena as it went against everything they believed in. Emperor Marcus Aurelius, himself a Stoic (Stoicism is a philosophical religion whereby the practitioner believes in ultimate self-control and the will to overcome destructive emotions) and the last of the ‘5 Good Emporers’, had all munera contested with blunted weapons.
It seems, however, that gladiators were as much admired and rejoiced as they were abhorred, and there is plenty of evidence, in variety of forms, to attest this.
While the philosophers like Seneca would show their contempt of a gladiator, others like Pliny the Younger (a distinguished senator, famous for his 10 books of letters) would applaud the enormous moral importance of fighting bravely and dying nobly, which was seen as a fine Roman trait. More generally, and perhaps more importantly, Roman homesteads and property seem to be beleaguered with gladiatorial paraphernalia. There are literally tons of artefacts from excavated from all over the Empire depicting various categories and forms of gladiators in action. Not just expensive floor mosaics, frescos and wall carvings but lamps, coins, statuettes, glass beakers, signet rings, candlesticks, ivory knife handles, water flasks and even a baby’s bottle all contain images of the heroes from the arena. Perhaps the most eye-opening aspect that I have come across while researching this essay were the effects that gladiators would have on the female citizens of the Roman Empire. This seems to be the strongest image of a Roman gladiator – as a sex-symbol. Arenas from El Djem, in modern day Tunisia, to Pompeii contain graffiti carved by the actual gladiators boasting of their sexual prowess and popularity with the ladies, rather than their arena exploits. The satirist Juvenal penned a short, witty account of Eppia, a senator’s wife, who had outrageously eloped with a
gladiator.
What was the youthful charm that so fired Eppia? What was it hooked her? What did she see in him that was worth being mocked as a fighter’s moll? For her poppet her Sergius was no chicken, forty at least, with one dud arm that held promise of early retirement.
Deformities marred his features – a helmet-scar, a great wen on his nose, an unpleasant discharge from one constantly weeping eye. What of it?
He was a gladiator. That makes anyone an Adonis; that was what she chose over children, country, sister and husband: steel’s what they crave.
Jevenal doesn’t paint a very pretty picture of the gladiator Sergiolus, with his deformities and battle scars and also getting on in years. In spite of everything, this is a man for whom Eppia was prepared to suffer the disapproval and condemnation of Roman society. It is the last line, however, that hints at Jevenal’s wit through a revealing pun – ‘steels’s what they crave’. In Latin ‘steel’ (ferrum) is a common term for sword and a gladius is the type of sword employed by gladiators (from they derive their name). At the time ‘gladius’ was a slang term for ‘penis’.
How then can we account for these paradoxical views? How can we start to fathom why a figure of such social and political disgrace was also a symbol of esteem and desire? Perhaps the answer could lay in the fact that Rome was a highly militaristic society with the munera playing a special role as many of Rome’s battles were fought in distant lands. Maybe there could be some apportion placed on the fact that the gladiators were symbols of lust despite being a social taboo, but because they were.
Whatever the reason the power of the spectacle itself cannot be underestimated with stadium hosted public executions and staged animal fighting still prevalent in certain cultures and societies today.