exhibits a similar combat, in which the Myrmillo falls
stabbed to death. The wounds, the blood, and the inside of the
bucklers are painted of a very bright red color. The swords, with the
exception of that of Hyppolitus, are omitted; it is possible that it
was intended to make them of metal.

The bas-reliefs constituting the lower frieze are devoted to the chase
and to combats between men and animals. In the upper part are hares
pursued by a dog; beyond is a wounded stag pursued by dogs, to whom he
is about to become the prey; below, a wild boar is seized by an
enormous dog, which has already caused his blood to flow.

In the middle of the composition a _bestiarius_ has transfixed a bear
with a stroke of his lance. This person wears a kind of short hunting
boot, and is clothed as well as his comrade in a light tunic without
sleeves, bound round the hips, and called _subucula_. It was the dress
of the common people, as we learn from the sculptures on Trajan's
column. The companion of this man has transfixed a bull, which flies,
carrying with him the heavy lance with which he is wounded. He turns
his head toward his assailant, and seems to wish to return to the
attack; the man by his gestures appears astonished, beholding himself
disarmed and at the mercy of the animal, whom he thought mortally
stricken. Pliny (lib. viii. cap. 45) speaks of the ferocity shown by
bulls in these combats, and of having seen them, when stretched for
dead on the arena, lift themselves up and renew the combat.

[Illustration: COMBATS WITH BEASTS.]

Another sort of amphitheatrical amusements consisted in witnessing the
death of persons under sentence of the law, either by the hands of the
executioner, or by being exposed to the fury of savage animals. The
early Christians were especially subjected to this species of cruelty.
Nero availed himself of the prejudice against them to turn aside
popular indignation after the great conflagration of Rome, which is
commonly ascribed to his own wanton love of mischief; and we learn
from Tertullian, that, after great public misfortunes, the cry of the
populace was, "To the lions with the Christians."

The Coliseum now owes its preservation to the Christian blood so
profusely shed within its walls. After serving during ages as a quarry
of hewn stone for the use of all whose station and power entitled them
to a share in public plunder, it was at last secured from further
injury by Pope Benedict XIV.,