Short History Of... - The Colosseum

Episode Date: December 4, 2023

Voted one of the seven modern wonders of the world, Rome’s Colosseum is an instantly recognizable building. Constructed by Emperor Flavian in the first century AD as a gift to his people, and still standing almost two millennia later, it has a rich and fascinating history. Films such as Gladiator and Spartacus popularize its reputation as home to brutal gladiator battles, but what is the real story behind the Colosseum? How did one emperor’s dream become a reality? Why was the arena abandoned for centuries? And what makes it so iconic in the 21st Century? From Noiser, this is a Short History Of The Colosseum. Written by Nicole Edmunds. With thanks to Greg Woolf, Ronald Miller Distinguished Professor of Ancient History at UCLA, and author of ‘The Life and Death of Ancient Cities’.  For ad-free listening, exclusive content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The year is 80 AD. In central Rome, between the lush green trees of Palatine Hill and the imposing buildings of the Forum, the city's narrow streets are thronging with people. Thousands of them. tall man dressed in a long white silk toga and thin leather sandals. His face is covered by a bushy beard and his brow glistens with sweat from the relentless Italian sun. In his hand he holds an engraved iron chip and neither love nor money would make him part with it. It's a ticket to one of the most hotly anticipated events in Roman history, the grand opening of the Flavian Amphitheatre. All around him, the Roman roads are alive with celebration. Processions of musicians and dancers twirl up ahead, while acrobats cartwheel past. Exotic animals gathered from all over the empire roar, purr and chirp from their cages.

The bearded man, a respected poet by the name of Marshall, tries to push his way through the hordes of people, but to no avail. Everyone is headed towards the same place, so he gives up rushing and walks at the same slow pace as the crowd under the blistering sun. at the same slow pace as the crowd under the blistering sun. Now a cry goes up. Someone ahead has caught sight of Rome's most celebrated gladiators, Verus and Priscus, who will be fighting the headline battle to the death later today. A wave of cheering passes, and though he's a serious man, Marshall can't help but join in. Then, as he turns a corner, a shadow falls across the colorful pageantry, and the crowds slow to a stop.

Bumping into the backs of people, Marshall lifts his gaze to the source of the shade. Towering above him is a colossal oval structure made of bright white bricks that glisten in the morning sunlight. Numerous ornate arched entrances add to the sense of grandeur, while intricate columns support the structure that protrudes 50 meters into the sky. This spectacular building is what everyone has come to see. Marshall takes a moment to admire the architectural masterpiece. He wishes he had some parchment and a stylus handy to capture this wondrous moment. But before he has time to think up words and phrases for a poem,

he is ushered forward by officials and asked to present his ticket. With a quick check of the iron chip, the official directs him to a nearby archway on the ground level to find his allocated seat. Inside, the amphitheater is a sight to behold. Rows and rows of seats stretch into the heavens. At the very top, men and women are packed like sardines, while at the bottom, a large gilded box adorned with feathers and frills takes pride of place. As Marshall gets settled, the crowd suddenly erupt in a frenzy of applause. Emperor Titus himself emerges from behind the curtains of a beautiful box and waves to his adoring fans before taking a seat on his golden throne.

The minutes pass and the amphitheatre fills up. Looking down on the huge, sand-covered arena, Marshall rubs his hands in excitement and waits for the epic games to begin. The Flavian Amphitheater, or as it's known today, the Colosseum, was the center of Roman life for almost 400 years. Taking eight years to build, at the cost of hundreds of millions of dollars in today's money, it immediately outshone every other amphitheater in the world. Crowds flocked by the thousands to watch contests between men and wild animals, bloody gladiator battles, and gruesome executions. But as the appetite for such spectacles

waned in the fourth and fifth centuries and Rome's empire declined, the Colosseum fell into a state of disrepair. Decades passed, and new generations found little use for the amphitheater in their modern lives. Now, though, in the 21st century, the Colosseum is legendary. Visited by over 6 million tourists each year, it is the most famous attraction in all of

Italy. But who had the Colosseum built in the first place? Why was the famed arena abandoned by later generations? And what makes it such a celebrated building almost 2,000 years after it was originally opened? I'm John Hopkins from Neuser. This is a short history of the Colosseum. In the first century AD, the Roman Empire is the largest and most powerful in the world.

It spans much of Western Europe, as well as the Middle East and parts of North Africa. Rome itself is home to around one million inhabitants, many of whom consider theirs to be the greatest city on earth. Governed by an emperor and the senate, and supported by the strongest army in history, Rome is unmatched in its glory, splendor, and success. But during the middle of the first century AD, the empire is ruled by the unpopular Nero. Already considered a greedy and selfish leader, after a deadly fire in 64 AD consumes a third of Rome,

Nero builds himself a magnificent golden palace on the scorched ruins of the city. Greg Wolf is the Ronald Miller Distinguished Professor of Ancient History of the University of California, Los Angeles. Roman Emperor Nero was the last of the Julia-Claudian dynasty and has a pretty negative press in most ancient writing. He's remembered as a persecutor of Christians, as somebody who fiddled while Rome burnt. He was just very unpopular with the wealthy, with the powerful.

He was very young when he came to power. He was just very unpopular with the wealthy, with the powerful. He was very young when he came to power. He was glamorous. He disappeared off to Greece and took part in diplomatic tours and chariot racing. He wasn't really one of them. And so I suspect that one of the reasons that they didn't like him and didn't like his golden house was because it was really in your face monarchical. He was really saying, I'm king of Rome, I'm king of the world. And that's, I think, why his memory was sort of dumped on by the people

who came after. Nero's unpopularity reaches breaking point in late 68 AD, when several senators rebel against his tyrannical rule. Faced with imprisonment or execution, he abandons his golden palace, flees the city, and takes his own life. But his suicide thrusts Rome into chaos. Nero leaves no heir, and several ambitious politicians and military generals fancy themselves the next emperor. It becomes a year marked by brief but bloody civil wars and transient leadership, earning it the name the Year of Four Emperors. Finally, the following July,

after months of political instability, a 60-year-old army general marches into Rome to defeat the sitting emperor. Fresh from victory in Jerusalem and backed by his loyal soldiers, Flavius Vespasian declares himself the new leader. His claim to the empire marks the end of the Julio-Claudian rule and the beginning of the Flavian dynasty. From the moment Vespasian and his family come into power, they mean business. One of the things they did was they tried to set business back to normal, and that meant

moving back onto the Palatine, which is where Augustus and Tiberius and other emperors had ruled. So they went back to the old palace, they demolished a lot of Nero's palace, and in the grounds, they filled in the lake and they used it as a site to build this enormous amphitheater. Funded by wealth acquired in the recent siege of Jerusalem, Vespasian draws up plans to construct the largest, most impressive amphitheater in all of Rome as a gift to his people. The year is 72 AD. The scorching midday sun beats down on Rome,

driving wealthy residents inside to seek shade. But not everyone is able to escape the heat. In the middle of an enormous expanse measuring 24,000 square meters, hundreds of laborers are hard at work. Dressed in nothing but simple loincloths, they are tasked with turning Emperor Vespasian's dream into a reality. One worker, a young Jewish man enslaved by the Romans in the recent war, leans against his spade. Sighing with exhaustion, he looks around at the work he has done.

In a matter of weeks, he and his fellow labourers have drained every inch of the great lake that once stood here. Soon they'll fill it with a thick ring of mortar that will provide the foundations of the amphitheater. But he is desperately thirsty, and even thinking of the lake that used to be here is torture. If only he could dive into its cool waters now and take a mouthful. He spots a fountain a few hundred meters away and heads towards it. But as soon as he clambers out of the trench, he's almost flattened. Men twice his size are heaving enormous slabs of travertine, a heavy limestone rock. Builders have ordered around 100,000 tons of it to construct the three-meter-thick walls. Closer to the site's perimeter, water is being mixed with sand to make a kind of cement.

He watches as it's poured smoothly into the dusty trenches below. The sight of water only adds to his thirst and he hurries on, past men hammering sheets of iron and sawing up thick tree trunks into planks. Eventually he reaches the water fountain and angles his face beneath the tap. After he drinks, his eye is drawn by a strange machine nearby. The Treadwheel Crane is a tall, wooden apparatus used to hoist up heavy bricks, operated by an unlucky worker running endlessly inside a large wheel. Wiping his mouth, the young man watches the crane in action. He knows just how dangerous it is, having heard horror stories of workers being crushed to death while moving the cumbersome wheel. In fact, rumor has it that visually impaired

men are being picked to work the crane so that they won't see the bricks about to fall. As he heads back to work, he sends up a silent prayer that he'll never have to operate it himself. But even so, he knows perfectly well that if he's ordered to do it, he'll have no choice. In all, it takes eight years and 20,000 laborers to construct Emperor Vespasian's epic amphitheater. By 80 AD, the massive edifice is finally complete. It's a monument saying, we've arrived. And the official name is not the Colosseum. The official name, when we look at the great marble map of Rome, is the Amphitheatrum Flavium. This is a Flavian amphitheater, so our family built this. So they really put themselves on the map. It's a

huge monument that on the one hand says, we're not going down the road that Nero did with his palace and his pleasure grounds. And the other says, instead of this great palace for which Nero confiscated private property, we'll make it all public. We'll make it into a public zone where the people of Rome can enjoy traditional kind of festivals. So it's a traditionalist move and it's a grandiloquent move. While the outside is impressive with its bright white architecture, the inside is beautiful. The circular seating areas are split into four separate tiers,

each with their own style of columns, ranging from simple Tuscan designs to intricate Corinthian patterns. Seats on the lower levels are made of shining marble, but those at the top consist of cramped wooden slats. The seating is built to reflect Rome's social hierarchy. In Roman theatres, there'd long been a convention that the most powerful people sit right down at the front. So you get senators and visiting ambassadors, and when the emperors arrive, there's a kind of royal box. And then the further up you go, you get three people,

and then right up at the very top, at least in theory, there are sort of the poor and the slaves, although most of us think that probably the rich people had a few slaves with them down at the front. Because after all, what's the advantage of having the best seat at the opera if somebody isn't there to uncork your bottle for you? But the further back you get, the further you are away from the audience, and there's no enormous screens which show you close-ups and so on.

So senators get the best view, knights get the second best view, and the lower your status senators get the best view, knights get the second best view, and the lower your status, the worse your view. And that's Roman society set out in spectacular hierarchy. And of course, you're also aware of the other people in the stadium. So you look out and you see where you are in relation to everybody else, and you know what your point in society is, how close you are to the front. The main spectacle, though, is not the walls, the arches, or even the decorative columns. It's the enormous arena right in the centre.

Believed to measure around 85 metres long and 50 metres wide, one and a half times the size of a modern football pitch, the arena is where all the action will take place. Its floor is covered with a layer of golden sand, and though the color catches the bright Italian sun beautifully, the truth is that the sand is chosen for its ability to absorb blood. Everything about the new amphitheater, from its innovative building techniques, rare materials and colossal size, makes it a masterpiece of its time. Rome's been building amphitheaters since, I suppose, the middle of the last century BCE. So this is just over 100 years before the Colosseum was built. And the early ones, some of them are literally carved out of rock.

Some of them are rather simple structures. But by the time you get to the Colosseum, it's much bigger. So there's arches that carry the weight. It's built out of a mixture of brick and concrete. And then the outside would have been really shiny white. It would be coated with travertine, which is this sort of white limestone-y rock that you still get in public buildings today. Very smooth, very reflective, so it would have glittered as you looked at it.

So most of that has gone now. But Emperor Vespasian doesn't live to see his dream brought to life. He dies just one year before its completion, and is succeeded by his eldest son, Titus. Keen to live up to his father's reputation, Titus throws a huge festival to celebrate the amphitheater's opening. Over one hundred days, thousands of awestruck spectators flock to see it, from every walk of life, the highest, most powerful senators to the poorest, menial laborers. And although gladiator battles and public executions have been taking place in Italy's amphitheaters for decades, these audiences have never seen anything on this scale before. As a show of generosity, Emperor Titus has hundreds of wooden balls thrown into the crowd

during his celebrations. Like in a raffle, the balls can be exchanged for prizes. In herocity, Emperor Titus has hundreds of wooden balls thrown into the crowds during his celebrations. Like in a raffle, the balls can be exchanged for prizes, ranging from golden vases and free meals to keys to a new house, and even enslaved people. A particular moment of note comes when Rome's celebrity gladiators take to the stage, Verus and Priscus, translating as true and ancient. It's believed Priscus was born in Germany and brought up in slavery. He is light, agile, and athletic. Verus, by comparison, was born in Rome and is stocky and muscular. The two men prepare to fight each other to the death

and win their freedom. But as the contest gets underway, it becomes clear they're equally matched. Each time Varys lunges forward with his spear, Priscus nimbly leaps out of the way, and whenever Priscus tries to attack, Varys batters him away with his shield. When Priscus tries to attack, Varys batters him away with his shield. As the hours drag on and the sun casts shadows over the arena, no victor emerges. Eventually both men fall to the floor, exhausted, and raise their left index fingers to the sky, the sign of submission. When Emperor Titus strides into the arena, everyone expects him to declare one man the victor and condemn the other to die. But in an unprecedented move, Titus announces both men to be victors,

cementing his reputation as an all-powerful emperor who controls life and death. The crowds eagerly lap up the endless days of entertainment and praise Titus for his generosity. Following his months-long celebration, the amphitheater soon becomes the very heart of life in Rome. the amphitheater soon becomes the very heart of life in Rome. It's unclear exactly how often the amphitheater is used during the early centuries. Popular culture paints a picture of it being open day after day, displaying dramatic fights and show-stopping performances non-stop. But these claims may not be accurate.

Colosseum wasn't used every day. The editorial games had started in Rome about 300 years before, and they took place at funerals. Later, they sometimes were connected to the return of generals in triumph. And they become a very popular form of spectacle, also a very expensive kind of spectacle. This is more like a Taylor Swift concert than like turning on the telly every night. It's something spectacular and people really wanted their ticket, they wanted access. Probably two or three times a year on maybe the major festivals like the Ludi Romani,

games took place. What we hear about in the ancient testimony are the really super duper ones. But having the Colosseum there, it's a kind of constant pledge. It says, you will always have these games from the emperor. So it's a reminder, once you've been to, it's a promise of more in the future. And then when it's opened, well, that's a great festival. All businesses suspended, markets are shut, law courts are shut, political institutions closed down. It's all about the games.

Though the performers and gladiators vary each time there's always an element of predictability to the coliseum schedule the mornings consist of the venatio or wild beast hunt trees and rocks decorate the stage turning it into an artificial forest as a trained hunter tries to catch and kill as many wild animals as he can, before they attack him. Showing off Rome's enormous empire, the animals brought to the hunt are exotic and deadly. Most Romans have only ever seen paintings of them before. We've got amazing mosaics showing animals being loaded onto ships.

We've got holding areas. We know the army participates in catching animals occasionally. They try to bring animals from all over the Roman world. So they're bringing bears from Scotland and lions from Africa, elephants occasionally. So it's a hugely expensive project. Although some of the animals that arrive are undernourished and disorientated from their journeys, when they emerge into the arena, human prey in sight, their killer instincts kick in. During the Venatio, the hunter often engages in a one-on-one battle with a savage wild beast,

but occasionally he'll fight multiple animals all at once. This Herculean-type challenge is popularized by Carpophorus, a renowned bestiarius, or beastfighter. During one match, Carpophorus allegedly takes on twenty adult lions and slaughters them all. If the spectators are lucky, the emperor will distribute the meat from the dead animals and share it among the crowd. Following the Venazio, there's a short interval where spectators can get up and stretch their legs. Handsome stewards pass through, carrying trays of cakes, pastries, dates and sweets, as well as merchandise, wooden gladiator figurines, or bricks inscribed with the names of fighters. Seeing as entry is free, fans are more than happy to spend their money on memorabilia. At midday, it's time for the executions.

Condemned criminals such as army deserters, runaway slaves, thieves, and rebels are dragged into the arena and executed in the most gruesome ways imaginable. They might be strapped to poles as starving animals rip them apart, tied to burning wooden stakes, or forced to face wild beasts completely unarmed. But these crowds are hard to satisfy. When the executions are over, it's the main event, the gladiator battles. In ancient Rome, gladiator combat is the most popular form of entertainment. Enslaved people are selected for their athletic abilities and thrown into gladiator schools, where they are trained for war.

Most gladiators fight for their freedom, but it's by no means a guaranteed prize. Gladiators can be awarded freedom if they give an extraordinary performance that impresses the emperor, or if they have served in the arena for at least three years. That is, if they survive that long. The average age of a gladiator at the time of death is just 22 and a half years old. For a select few, however, being a gladiator is akin to being a modern celebrity. Successful warriors can earn up to six times the annual Roman's salary for a single fight. High mortality rate aside, it's a tempting offer, and the Colosseum churns out a number of gladiator heroes. There are even female warriors, known as gladiatrices, but these are few and far between. Despite their bloodlust, Romans can be squeamish about watching women fight to the death.

Although, admittedly, gladiator battles are bloody affairs, there is some order to them. Like modern-day boxing matches, contestants are often placed in weight categories and paired with partners of similar builds. This isn't a hard and fast rule, though, as different-sized gladiators can make for the most entertaining fights, as was the case with Varus and Priscus. One law that cannot be broken, however, is that of surrender. If a warrior concedes defeat by raising his left index finger, the opponent must stand aside and let the emperor decide his fate.

But the crowds aren't shy about letting their feelings be known. If they think a gladiator has fought bravely enough to be spared, the stands will ring out with calls of missus, meaning dismissal. What no vankrist fighter wants to hear are shouts of lugula, verbera, ure, from a crowd, meaning slit his throat, beat, burn. If the emperor passes a sentence of death, it's down to the victorious gladiator to slit his opponent's throat. But despite the overwhelming popularity of gladiatorial combat, the Colosseum is far more than just a theatre of public spectacle. combat, the Colosseum is far more than just a theatre of public spectacle. Sandwiched between Palatine Hill and the Forum, it's regarded as the most important political platform in the city. Inside Rome, it's one of several places where the emperor meets the people,

the citizens of the capital. There's a kind of imperial box on the games, which the emperors go out to be seen as well as to see. One of the things. There's a kind of imperial box on the games, which the emperors go out to, to be seen as well as to see. One of the things that every emperor is judged about is, what's he like in relation to the games? Does he throw good ones or is he stingy? When he turns up, does he treat it properly? Claudius gets a lot of flack because he doesn't seem to take it serious. A bunch of gladiators come out and say, we are about to die. Salute you, Caesar. And he says, or not, meaning you might not die. And the gladiators, the story goes, said, well, we've been pardoned. That's great. We don't have to fight. And Claudius totally loses it. And the dignity of an emperor disappears. He stamps,

he shouts, he threatens to send the soldiers in to kill them. And this doesn't respond well. So it's a stage in which emperors can be wonderful or terrible, at which they can be amazing or real disgraces to their name. It's one of the few places they get judged. If Emperor Vespasian had lived a few more years, he'd have watched his vision flourish beyond even his wildest dreams. What started off as an ambitious idea to cultivate personal popularity has blossomed into a microcosm of the entire Roman Empire.

Just a year after the amphitheater is opened, Emperor Titus suddenly dies. The story goes that he is killed by a fever, but as he's just 41 years old and in good health, many suspect foul play. His younger brother, Domitian, is regarded as a conniving and ambitious individual. It's possible he had a hand in Titus's demise. Domitian takes control of the Roman Empire and, eager to boost his image, organizes grand renovations for what will one day become known as the Colosseum. A few years into his rule, he oversees the construction of a complex subterranean extension beneath the arena, known as the Hypergeum. known as the Hypergeum. It comprises a vast network of tunnels and rooms from where animals, humans, and scenery will be released seemingly at random.

Domitian hopes this will add to the magical illusion of the games, as the spectators won't be able to tell what's going to pop up when, or from where. In their thousands, crowds pack into the amphitheater to see the new Hypogeum in action. And it doesn't disappoint. While beast hunters skillfully creep around the stage, fake trees suddenly emerge, flocks of birds burst from the ground, and hungry lions pounce onto the sand. and hungry lions pounce onto the sand. What the audience doesn't see is the back-breaking work that takes place inside the Hypogeum.

Out of sight, 600 enslaved men pull on ropes to operate trapdoors and pulley systems and handle dangerous beasts. Down here, the wild animals growl and rattle their cages, while gladiators warm up for fights and hunters sharpen lethal weapons. The grueling work is made worse by the dark, humid atmosphere of the claustrophobic underground world, thick with the smell of sweat and blood. Years stretch into decades, and the amphitheater's crowds continue to turn a blind eye to its dark secrets. In the year 101, following victory in the Roman-Dacian War,

Emperor Trajan celebrates with the biggest bloodbath in history. Over 123 days, 11,000 animals are killed on the arena's floor. The site remains a jewel in the crown of the seemingly unstoppable Empire. But pride always comes before a fall. And even a structure this colossal, this magnificent, this dominant, isn't immune from danger. It's a warm August evening in 217 AD. Tonight, there's a feeling of anticipation in the air as Roman citizens celebrate Vulcanalia, the festival of fire. Every August, families light small bonfires on the streets and in their gardens to pay tribute to the god of fire. It's their way of thanking him for not striking their city.

As the sun starts to set below the buildings, young children chase each other along the roads, while the grown-ups warm their hands and chat by the flames. In a narrow street just below a block of wooden houses, a boy and his sister play together. They chase the sparks from the fires, stubbornly ignoring their mother's warnings to stay close. Then the boy feels a drop of rain fall on his nose. He looks up and frowns as he sees clouds merging overhead. A storm is coming.

The boy calls to his sister, telling her they need to run back home before the heavens open. But she's rooted to the spot, her eyes on something in the distance. Then she lifts her arm and points. There, in the center of Rome, a huge blood-red fire is burning. Thick plumes of smoke swirl into the stormy sky as luminous streaks of flames reach high into the air. And like his sister, he knows exactly where it's coming from. The great amphitheater. Without thinking, he grabs his sister's arm, pulling her through the streets towards it. He has to see. The rain falls heavier now, but as more and more catch sight of what's happening, the roads fill.

Soon, hundreds are splashing through the cobbled streets to see the stricken building. When they reached at last, the sight is terrifying. Bright orange flames lick the upper tiers, revealing its charred skeleton beneath. Scorched fragments of wood plummet to the ground as lumps of brick and cement crumble. Amid the chaos, the boy spots a group of city officials filling buckets of water from nearby houses and fountains and trying desperately to douse the flames. Grabbing a discarded container from the ground, he joins in the effort, while his sister stares up, open-mouthed.

But although the boy makes countless journeys back and forth between the fire and the fountains, his efforts are futile. The vicious flames consume the helpless amphitheater, eating up the historic Roman architecture like one of its famous beasts. The fire of 217 AD causes extensive damage. Although the city's water supplies are emptied and rain from the storm falls onto the fire, nothing helps. and rain from the storm falls onto the fire, nothing helps. It's not known exactly how much of the amphitheater is ruined, but contemporary writers note that most of the third and fourth tiers are completely destroyed. Made primarily of wood, the seating on these upper layers acts as kindling for the hungry flames.

Frustratingly for the citizens of Rome, no one knows exactly what caused the disaster. Many claim a local bonfire got out of hand, while others believe it was a freak accident. The current emperor, Macrinus, blames the evening storm, claiming that their beloved structure was hit by a lightning bolt. Major efforts are put into restoration, and the third and fourth layers are slowly rebuilt. It opens five years later, but it's not entirely fixed, and structural repairs continue well into the fourth century. For now, Rome is happy to pay for the costly repairs. After all, the arena is the most popular site in the whole of the empire. But it's only a matter of time until it slips from public favor.

By the middle of the 3rd century, the massive Roman Empire stretches from Britain in the north to Egypt in the south. It's so expansive, it's said to take seven weeks to travel from one end to the other. What's more, Rome governs around 20% of the world's population. But size is an issue, and the third century is one plagued by crises. With so many different territories to manage, cracks begin to form. Taxes aren't always collected on time, the army suffers defeats, and uprisings break out across the continents. These issues cause Emperor Diocletian to split the empire, and by the 4th century there are separate Eastern and Western kingdoms.

While the Eastern side, or the Byzantine Empire as it becomes known, grows in prosperity, the West drowns in turmoil. A combination of divided governance, emerging Christianity, invasions, uprisings and economic hardship prove to be its undoing. The Romans leave Britain in 409 AD, and their rule is replaced by Anglo-Saxon leadership. Before long, much of Europe is released from Rome's grip too. By the end of the 5th century, the Roman Empire is no more. The amphitheater has long been a totem of Rome and all its grandeur.

So when the empire starts to crumble, its own future hangs in the balance. The Colosseum has a remarkably long life, and we know about it being used from 80 when it's created, through the second century by Empress Lightrage, and right through the the third century and still occasionally we hear gladiators happening right up in the fifth century which they shouldn't really be doing but once the empire becomes Christian gladiatorial games are kind of frowned on but in Rome you get away with what you want to get away with because the emperors by then are a long way away the senators who run Rome continue to run this. It would have been less splendid.

The resources are fewer. They don't have the resource of the empire behind them. Although games continue for a number of decades, eventually the site closes its doors as a gladiator arena, and beast fights also retreat into history. The last recorded animal battle in the Flavian Amphitheater takes place in 575 AD, signaling the end of one of history's bloodiest eras. From its inauguration in 80 AD to its final gladiator battle over four centuries later,

a total of 400,000 men have been slain at the Colosseum, mostly enslaved people and prisoners. It's also estimated that a million wild animals are slaughtered there and the North African elephant is driven to extinction. Following the final animal fight, the Colosseum falls into disrepair. Storms and natural disasters take their toll, battering its formerly magnificent walls and ripping apart its intricate structures. Rome is in an earthquake zone and a good tip if you want to build a Colosseum is try not to build it over a lake bed because underneath the lake there is a buried watercourse

and that's why half of the Colosseum has collapsed because it's fallen down through subsidence. As Western Rome struggles to pay for various wars and falls into debt, governments refuse to spend money on the Colosseum's much-needed repairs. spend money on the Colosseum's much-needed repairs. Its glory days as a world-famous amphitheater may be behind it, but the generations that come each have their own creative ideas of how to put it to use.

When Rome enters the Middle Ages in the 6th century, the Christian church claims the amphitheater as its own. A chapel is affixed to the structure, and the former arena is turned into a cemetery. But many Christians are suspicious, believing it to be the seventh gate to hell, where the souls of murdered gladiators roam by night. It's in the Middle Ages that the site earns its modern name. Surprisingly, it's not the size of the arena itself that leads to its title of the Colosseum, but the discovery by scholars of a colossal 30-foot statue of Emperor Nero, which once stood outside the arena. Emperor Vespasian would surely turn in his grave at this re-christening. The monument built in his legacy, intended to immortalize his name, now honors the tyrannical dictator who came before.

Following the Church's possession of the Colosseum in the Middle Ages, it remains in a state of neglect and flux as different powers rise to prominence. In the 12th century, it's used as a fortress by a powerful Italian family, before becoming a quarry. Its arches, columns, statues and precious metals are scavenged for the city's new building projects. Fragments of the ancient structure can be found in St. Peter's Church, the Pantheon, the Palazzo Venezia, and a fortification for the river Tiber. The iron clamps that once held its walls together are ripped off, leaving the distinctive bullet-shaped holes we see today. The 1500s see Pope Sixtus V attempt to transform the Colosseum into a wool factory to provide alternative employment for the city's sex workers. But his plans prove too expensive and are abandoned.

The Colosseum is empty once more. For some time, it seems, humans have well and truly deserted the amphitheater, and nature moves in. By the 17th century, over 300 different species of wildflowers carpet its floors and walls. Anyone stumbling upon the Colosseum now would be forgiven for having little idea of its true history. The battles that were won and lost here are forgotten, just like the exotic animals that paraded around, the massive crowds, the all-powerful emperors. To these Romans,

the Colosseum is nothing but a relic of an ancient era with no role to play in their modern lives. But then, in 1749, after 1,200 years of decay, the Colosseum's fortunes finally change. Pope Benedict XIV consecrates the site because he believes the blood of Christian martyrs was spilled here. In fact, modern historians argue there's no evidence it was ever the site of Christian sacrifice. But the myth saves the Colosseum, and new laws make it illegal to remove its materials. Now, major efforts go towards its restoration. To begin with, though, excavation is unsuccessful. With centuries of dirt and sewage piling up around it, workers find it impossible to reveal what's buried beneath.

Projects are started and stopped as consecutive companies run into logistical and financial difficulties. A turning point comes in the 1870s, when the new Italian state recognizes the Colosseum as a national monument and sponsors a massive development. Tearing down the Catholic and Christian additions to the bitter outcry of Rome's religious communities, workers are able to drain litres of water from the arena's surface. What's left of the floor is ripped up to allow archaeologists to explore the tunnels beneath. The ruins of the Hypogeum are left on display for the world to see, but they are also now exposed to the weather.

Over the next few decades, historians and archaeologists use ancient documents and artifacts to piece together how the Colosseum used to look. and artifacts to piece together how the Colosseum used to look. Now the Colosseum receives a new generation of admirers. Among them are famous authors such as Charles Dickens, Henry James, and Edgar Allan Poe, who find inspiration in the romantic ruins. In the 1930s, it piques the interest of Italy's fascist government and is visited by Adolf Hitler. it piques the interest of Italy's fascist government and is visited by Adolf Hitler. Mussolini was interested in reviving and highlighting the Roman past

and wasn't very interested in the medieval past. A lot of medieval and not the great Baroque structures but ordinary little buildings removed. So the Colosseum now is more disentangled from surrounding houses than it has been for a long time because of the work that fascist archaeologists did in the 30s. Slowly but surely, the Colosseum is finding its place in Rome's modern history. Today, the Colosseum is one of the most iconic buildings in Italy and the world,

receiving more tourists each year than Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Thanks to ongoing efforts from the Italian government, as well as private investors and UNESCO, it's being well-preserved for future generations. In 2007, it was designated a modern wonder of the world. Its influence can be seen all over the globe. In London, the Royal Albert Hall is modelled on the Roman amphitheatre, and the London Coliseum, home to English opera, borrows its name. Other amphitheatres in France, Croatia, Tunisia, Italy, and even Las Vegas have the Colosseum to thank for their creation.

Although it's no longer the popular public theater it once was, it continues to play a part in contemporary culture. Box office smash hits like Spartacus, Gladiator, and Mission Impossible use the Colosseum as a setting. Paul McCartney and Pink Floyd have performed in its ruins. But not everyone shows the respect that such an ancient structure deserves. In 2023, Italian authorities are forced to demonstrate their commitment to defending the Colosseum when a video circulates of a tourist defacing one of the walls. An international manhunt is launched, and the British culprit now faces a fine of at least 15,000 euros, as well as a possible five-year prison sentence.

And the Colosseum's story is still being written, with the Italian government's recent pledge of 11 million euros to restore the arena's floor. Set to complete in 2023, their plans include a retractable level above the ruins of the Hypogeum which will allow tourists to stand where gladiators once stood. It will also provide vital protection to the tunnels beneath, which have been exposed to the elements for two centuries. By safeguarding and restoring the Colosseum, Italy hopes it will become the centre of Roman culture once more.

I think the Colosseum is really important today to different groups of people for different reasons. For most tourists who go overseas to go to a city they've never been to, they want to find something they know already. And I think in Rome, one of the most recognisable images is the Colosseum. It's interesting for historians in different ways because we can track this deep history of a city that after all has been occupied for about 3,000 years which is nearly as old as any city in Europe and the Colosseum is one spot where we could say This is where this happened. This is where Nero had his palace

This is where Vespasian celebrated the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. This is where thousands of animals are killed. It's a way of imagining the living people of the city of Rome. Imagine those crowds sitting there. Imagine them ordered by the wealthy, the less wealthy, the poor. Imagine where the emperor stood. In a way, you can't for a lot of ages. You can actually stand in one spot and say, that's where it happened. So it's a moment where the veil between the past and the present seems just a little bit thinner than elsewhere. Next time on Short History Of we'll bring you a short history of J.R.R. Tolkien. You know, we have these massive forces that are shaping our lives and they seem all powerful.

And what can I possibly do in the face of this massive force? Well, Tolkien says quite a lot. You can strive to do what's good. You can be a good friend. says quite a lot. You can strive to do what's good. You can be a good friend. You can step up to do what Frodo did and say, I will take the ring, although I do not know the way. What a powerful message of hope for us, that legacy of hope that what we do actually matters. That's next time.