200 Arenas and Why to Visit Them

This not a travelogue, or an historical study and it’s written for fun rather than by an academic,  architect or professional writer. What I hope to do is explain the enthusiasm that sparked this, and possibly inspire you to go a little bit off the beaten track, particularly if you find yourself travelling or on holiday in a former outpost of the Roman Empire. It’s good to have a look and a think about what previous civilisations have left behind for you to gaze at, clamber over and wonder about.

As a child I was interested, possibly obsessed, with a number of things about which  I watched TV programmes and films,  pored over books, and pestered parents for associated toys and merchandising. The top four, in in no particular order, were probably Dinosaurs, Ancient Egypt, The Beatles and The Roman Empire. All inspired wonder, and each in their own way was artistically and scientifically arresting and became the biggest and possibly most dominant force in their known world at the time.  All of them also eventually collapsed and petered out as a result of forces beyond their control which they could not evolve to deal with (Religious revolutionaries, inbreeding, meteorites, musical differences).  The recurring story of the rise and fall of Empires.

What have they done for us?

It sometimes feels like the Romans are everywhere. In our language, our architecture, our gene pool our films and our comedy. If you live in Western Europe, North Africa the Near East or Israel it may well be that they’ve left their visible mark in your city, your local museum, or even your back garden.

The story given to schoolchildren like me, growing up in 1960s provincial England, fell neatly into step with our own recent dodgy colonial past. Tales were told of a civilised, organised, cultured and unstoppable elite whose powers of invention, military excellence, art and literature brought a new dawn to the ragged and brutish tribes of Europe and beyond. Their uniforms were cool, their tactics brilliant, their buildings, even as ruins, were fabulous.

It all went wrong for them, it was explained, when their approach to civil unrest gave rise to the fatal error, to paraphrase the late and great Douglas Adams, of nailing a young man to a piece of wood in the middle east to discourage him and his friends from saying it would be a good idea if people were nice to each other for a change (and telling them who or what they should or shouldn’t worship). He and the people he inspired, we were told, put paid to the Roman Empire until a couple of thousand years later the wonderful and invincible British Empire picked up the baton and did it all over again only better (and all in the name of Jesus and Queen Victoria etc.).

The other suggested reason they ‘failed’ (of course) was because under the surface lay ungodly decadence and un-Christian self- indulgence. So inevitably their in-bred corrupt elite rotted them from the core outwards.

The Romans continue to provide rich pickings for anyone setting themselves up as the latest thing in top-down politics and empire building. Shiny helmets, standard bearers, eagles, marching men, leader worship…… all were just the ticket for the ‘father of modern brand advertising’ as Goebbels is referred to in some quarters.

 History is written by the winners. – George Orwell

History is more or less bunk. – Henry Ford

Those with no knowledge of History are destined to repeat it. – Attributed to Santayana

I don’t care about history. – Joey Ramone

 Take your pick..

Poetry Corner

Scientist and inventor Sir Humphrey Davy, filled occasional pages  of notebooks which chronicled his scientific experiments, with scribbled poetry. In 1813-1815 he toured Greece and Rome. This dates from that period:

Rhyme and Reason

 Ye grand memorials of the fate of man

That rise a moral lesson to our eyes

More strong and more impressive than the lore

Which sages and ponderous tomes enfold.

To raise a temple and to gratify

Imperial pride and luxury. The world

Was ravaged as a million slaves were taught to raise the pole

Fitted for barbarous sports. In which the blood

Of man was shed. The master of the globe

The image of eternal majesty

Torn by the fangs of the relentless beast

The rack was brought from Egypt

Ancient Greece was robbed of all her gods

Her temples spoiled.

And the divinities which Phidias framed

Were brought in bondage to the capital

What now remains, pillars and broken shafts

A heap of ruins, Witness those mossy walls

Where once a hundred thousand voices hailed

The dying gladiator; silence reigns

And awful solitude – yet a spirit dwells

Within these ruins