illustrated by the
observation of some particulars, which history has condescended to
relate concerning those of his predecessors. If we confine ourselves
solely to the hunting of wild beasts, however we may censure the vanity
of the design or the cruelty of the execution, we are obliged to confess
that neither before nor since the time of the Romans so much art and
expense have ever been lavished for the amusement of the people. By the
order of Probus, a great quantity of large trees, torn up by the roots,
were transplanted into the midst of the circus. The spacious and shady
forest was immediately filled with a thousand ostriches, a thousand
stags, a thousand fallow deer, and a thousand wild boars; and all
this variety of game was abandoned to the riotous impetuosity of the
multitude. The tragedy of the succeeding day consisted in the massacre
of a hundred lions, an equal number of lionesses, two hundred leopards,
and three hundred bears. The collection prepared by the younger Gordian
for his triumph, and which his successor exhibited in the secular
games, was less remarkable by the number than by the singularity of
the animals. Twenty zebras displayed their elegant forms and variegated
beauty to the eyes of the Roman people. Ten elks, and as many
camelopards, the loftiest and most harmless creatures that wander over
the plains of Sarmatia and AEthiopia, were contrasted with thirty African
hyaenas and ten Indian tigers, the most implacable savages of the torrid
zone. The unoffending strength with which Nature has endowed the greater
quadrupeds was admired in the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus of the Nile,
and a majestic troop of thirty-two elephants. While the populace gazed
with stupid wonder on the splendid show, the naturalist might indeed
observe the figure and properties of so many different species,
transported from every part of the ancient world into the amphitheatre
of Rome. But this accidental benefit, which science might derive from
folly, is surely insufficient to justify such a wanton abuse of the
public riches. There occurs, however, a single instance in the first
Punic war, in which the senate wisely connected this amusement of the
multitude with the interest of the state. A considerable number of
elephants, taken in the defeat of the Carthaginian army, were driven
through the circus by a few slaves, armed only with blunt javelins.
The useful spectacle served to impress the Roman soldier with a just
conte