To imagine oneself in the shoes (or sandals) of those facing violence and death in the arena was part of the popular appeal of Roman bloodsport from the very beginning. And yet, the sympathy felt toward such figures was to some extent at odds with the distancing and dehumanizing strategies that allowed munera to remain a central and popular element of Roman culture for centuries. Indeed, narratives about the Roman arena across time have tended to highlight this very paradox and, in the process, offer cultural criticism as well as personal inspiration, despair as well as hope.

QUESTION

When reading ancient narratives about gladiators, condemned prisoners, and mistreated animals in the arena, many of us cannot help but experience a powerful emotional response. After all, these are highly affecting stories by design, with narratives that ask readers to draw close comparisons between themselves and those suffering in the arena.

To imagine oneself in the shoes (or sandals) of those facing violence and death in the arena was part of the popular appeal of Roman bloodsport from the very beginning. And yet, the sympathy felt toward such figures was to some extent at odds with the distancing and dehumanizing strategies that allowed munera to remain a central and popular element of Roman culture for centuries. Indeed, narratives about the Roman arena across time have tended to highlight this very paradox and, in the process, offer cultural criticism as well as personal inspiration, despair as well as hope.

In an effort to critically but compassionately engage with the many individuals involved in Roman sport — the roaring crowd, owners and trainers at the gladiatorial ludi, Christian martyrs, Stoic philosophers, even narcissistic emperors — this assignment asks students to compose their own first-person narrative set in the arena.

In writing this narrative, you will be in good company. The appeal of the arena proved irresistible for poets, philosophers, and proselytizers living under the Roman empire, all of whom leveraged the popularity and symbolism of such events to further their own agendas. Writing what amounts to historical fiction, you should yourself also take liberties and follow your own interests—inventing characters, complications, etc., as suits your overall purpose. Note, however, that the grading rubric detailed below gives special incentive for you to demonstrate both historical awareness and a human sensitivity to the competing emotions, ideologies, and commitments at play in the arena.

Although your story will inevitably be fictional in many, if not most, of its details, it should nevertheless be anchored to a certain historical moment about which we have substantial evidence. For example, you might consider setting your narrative at a specific time and place, such as the riots outside the amphitheater in Pompeii in 59 CE or the inaugural festivities at the Flavian Amphitheater 80 CE. But you might imagine instead a more generic munus legtimum presented in a far-flung Roman province, perhaps featuring one of the gladiators commemorated by a funerary stele, or “gravestone”. You might also consider taking for your historical basis a pre-existing ancient arena narrative but creating an original and complementary story by adopting the first-person perspective of another individual.

Whatever you choose, in composing your narrative, imagine that your reader to be generally familiar with the world of Roman sport. For example, a sentence might simply read “I fell to my knees, groping helplessly in the dust for my gladius” without the further explanation, “a short sword which gave its name to gladiators.” Like any good work of historical fiction, your narrative should be immersive. “Show, don’t tell” your audience what matters. Ultimately, your story will be a success if it leads readers toward a fuller and more personal understanding of the customs, practices, personalities, and ideologies of ancient Rome — a very different time with a very different sense of sport.

GRADING RUBRIC

___ / 20 PTS: LENGTH

Narratives should be 600-1,500 words in length.

___ / 20 PTS: NARRATIVE POWER

Not all stories are well-suited to the above-specified length, so choose your topic and its presentation carefully. Consider what will be most effective to put in or leave out. what narrative shortcuts can you might strategically employ to demonstrate your knowledge of the ancient world without resorting to long exposition. Does it give the impression that this narrative could only happen in a situation like the Roman arena (and not, for instance, a modern locker room or boxing ring)?

___ / 20 PTS: HISTORICAL ACCURACY AND DETAIL

Does your narrative square with the world portrayed in Futrell and other available, reputable, sources (e.g., The Romans historical textbook by Boatwright and Talbert)? Your narrative should not cover all aspects of Roman sport—you’d need far more than 1,500 words for that. Rather, it will be successful if it richly explores a handful of related issues.

___ / 20 PTS: EMPATHETIC / EMOTIONAL POWER

Does the submission provide a compelling psychological portrait? Does it highlight the difficult decisions and situations faced by those in, and around, the arena? Even if the narrative privileges a particular perspective (e.g., that of the lanista or martyr), does it acknowledge, or at least leave room for, contrasting perspectives?

___ / 20 PTS: POLISH

Are factual, typological, and grammatical errors kept to a minimum? Does the submission give the impression of careful thought, work, and editing?

ANSWER

 Shadows of the Arena

I stand at the gate, my heart pounding against my chest like a frantic beast. The deafening roar of the crowd reverberates through the stone walls, filling the air with a mixture of anticipation and bloodlust. I can feel the weight of the sand beneath my sandals, a reminder of the countless lives that have been spilled on this sacred ground.

I am a gladiator, a warrior forged in the crucible of the arena. The training, the battles, the scars—they have all led me to this moment. The lanista, my owner and trainer, watches me with a stoic gaze. He is a man of hardened resolve, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and indifference. To him, I am but a pawn in his game, a tool to be used and discarded.

The gate creaks open, and the crowd erupts into a thunderous applause. I step into the arena, my body tense, my senses heightened. The sand sticks to my skin, a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of life in this place (Howes, 2022). Across from me stands another gladiator, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and resignation. We are both prisoners of this world, destined to face each other in a battle that neither of us truly desires.

As the battle begins, the crowd’s cheers turn into a cacophony of bloodlust. They revel in the spectacle of violence, their faces contorted with a strange mixture of excitement and savagery. It is as if they have become intoxicated by the sight of our suffering, as if our pain brings them some perverse pleasure.

With each clash of weapons, with each drop of blood spilled upon the sand, I can feel my own humanity slipping away. The gladiator across from me is no longer a man but a mere obstacle, an obstacle I must overcome to survive. But as I strike him down, I catch a glimpse of his eyes, filled with fear and desperation. In that moment, I see myself reflected in his gaze.

The battles in the arena are not just physical but psychological as well. We are forced to confront our own mortality, to grapple with the knowledge that our lives hang in the balance. Some embrace the violence, finding solace in the chaos. Others, like me, search for meaning amidst the chaos, hoping to preserve their humanity in a world that seeks to strip it away.

Outside the arena, the city bustles with life. Merchants peddle their wares, children play in the streets, and lovers embrace in hidden corners (The Literary Remains of the Late Willis Gaylord Clark ::  :: University of Virginia Library, n.d.). They are blissfully unaware of the darkness that resides just beyond the city walls. But here, in the heart of the arena, we are the forgotten ones, the ones who bear the weight of the world’s cruelty.

As the battle draws to a close, I stand triumphant, my body battered and bruised, my spirit tested but unbroken. The crowd’s cheers fade into the background, replaced by a deafening silence. I realize then that the true battle is not fought in the arena but within ourselves. It is a battle for our humanity, our compassion, and our ability to rise above the savagery that surrounds us.

I am a gladiator, a condemned prisoner, a symbol of the paradoxes that define this world. And though the arena may be a place of despair, it is also a place of hope (Quotes I Have Enjoyed, n.d.). For within these walls, amid the violence and suffering, we find the strength to endure, to defy the darkness that threatens to consume us.

As I leave the arena, my footsteps echoing through the empty corridors, I carry with me the stories of those who have come before. The gladiators, the condemned prisoners, the mistreated animals—they are all a part of me now. And as I step back into the world beyond the arena, I vow to carry their legacy with me, to fight for a future where compassion triumphs over cruelty, and where the shadows of the arena are but a distant memory.

Ultimately, it is not just a story of ancient Rome but a story of our shared humanity, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, we have the power to transcend our circumstances and shape our destiny.

References

Howes, S. (2022, November 4). Brave voices raise consciousness in “My Body No Choice” at Arena Stage – DC Theater Arts. DC Theater Arts. https://dctheaterarts.org/2022/10/24/brave-voices-raise-consciousness-in-my-body-no-choice-at-arena-stage/ 

Quotes I Have Enjoyed. (n.d.). http://marvin.cs.uidaho.edu/About/quotes.html 

The literary remains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark ::  :: University of Virginia Library. (n.d.). https://xtf.lib.virginia.edu/xtf/view?docId=2006_04/uvaBook/tei/eaf050.xml;query=;brand=default