In the times of the most dissolute emperors, the people of Rome lived chiefly to attend the theatre and the circus; after bread, all they asked for was shows. There were theatres in Rome capable of seating eighty thousand persons. We may imagine such a concourse waiting while Nero dines in their presence in the imperial box, and allays their impatience by shouting: "One more sup, and then I will present you with something that will make your ears tingle." But it is likely that the Roman ladies of noble birth were wont to hear the announcement of Nero's performances with little anticipatory pleasure. They dared not absent themselves, for there were spies who would report to the emperor their failure to attend; and, being present, they were compelled to submit to the infliction of the whole of the wretched exhibition; for on such occasions the doors were absolutely closed against all egress. So thoroughly was this rule carried out that there are reports of infants having been born in the theatre while Nero was displaying his skill as an actor. More than that, it was never known when or under what circumstances the lightning of his malicious displeasure would fall upon some unlucky head. Once, when he was playing and singing in the theatre, he observed a married lady dressed in the shade of purple which he had prohibited. He pointed her out to his officers, and she was not only stripped of her raiment, but her property was also practically confiscated by means of fines. Yet doubtless the fact that they were afforded the strange privilege of witnessing the acting of an emperor did serve to arouse the interest of the blasé Roman populace. Legitimate histrionic art had become for them tiresome, as it always does where luxury and pampered idleness tend to blunt the artistic conscience. Nothing less than libidinous vaudeville, in which matrons of noble birth were by bribes or threats induced to take part, could create the least sensation. Realistic performances were more popular still. The actors in these were found in the dungeons, therefore they were not costly and required little training. A much truer idea of agony is obtained by watching a man really suffer than by seeing it mimicked by an actor; and if the piece to be staged includes a death, why not provide the audience with the opportunity of seeing a criminal die in the manner designated? These were the scenes to which the women of Rome grew accustomed, with the result that, for the evil-disposed, bloodshed was no more than a pastime, while for the better-natured it at least enabled them to look upon their own death with diminished terror. But the favorite exhibition with the Roman populace was the sanguinary gladiatorial encounter. Ten thousand men were constantly kept and trained, that the people might witness their combats to the death with each other or with ferocious animals. These combats were to be seen in greater perfection at a later day than that