That the Italian was essentially of a more barbarous nature than the Greek is apparent in the national spectacles and amusements. The savage scenes of gladiatorial and non-human combat and internecine slaughter of the Latin amphitheatres, of which the famous Colosseum in the capital was the model of many others in the provinces, were abhorrent to the more refined Greek mind.[21] In view of scenes so sanguinary--the “Roman holiday”--it is scarcely necessary to observe that humanitarianism was a creed unknown to the Italians; and it was not likely that a people, addicted throughout their career as a dominant race to the most bloody wars, not only foreign but also internecine, with whom fighting and slaughter of their own kind was an almost daily occupation, should entertain any feeling of pity (to say nothing of justice) towards their non-human dependants. Nevertheless, even they were not wholly inaccessible, on occasion, to the prompting of pity. Referring to a grand spectacle given by Pompeius at the dedication of his theatre (B.C. 55), in which a large number of elephants, amongst others, were forced to fight, the elder Pliny tells us:--
“When they lost the hope of escape, they sought the compassion of the crowd with an appearance that is indescribable, bewailing themselves with a sort of lamentation so much to the pain of the populace that, forgetful of the imperator and the elaborate munificence displayed for their honour, they all rose up in tears and bestowed imprecations on Pompeius, of which he soon after experienced the effect.”[22]
Cicero, who was himself present at the spectacle of the Circus, in a letter to a friend, Marcus Marius, writes:--
“What followed, for five days, was successive combats between a man and a wild beast. (_Venationes binæ._) It was magnificent. No one disputes it. But what pleasure can it be to a person of refinement, when either a weak man is torn to pieces by a very powerful beast, or a noble animal is struck through by a hunting spear?... The last day was that of the elephants, in which there was great astonishment on the part of the populace and crowd, but no enjoyment. Indeed there followed a degree of compassion, and a certain idea that there is a sort of fellowship between that huge animal and the human race.” (Cicero, _Ep. ad Diversos_ vii., 1.)