These days, there are no good seats at the Colosseum.
In fact, thanks to centuries of enthusiastic pillaging, there are no seats at all.
But when the amphitheater was whole, it had places for more than 50,000 spectators.
During the great imperially-sponsored games, when most of Rome’s million inhabitants
were competing for those 50,000 or so seats, your chances of getting a good place in the
arena depended on who you were, who you know, and how creatively you exploited both.
Like the other entries in my time traveler’s guide to ancient Rome, this video provides
hypothetically practical advice to modern tourists with the wherewithal to visit imperial
Rome.
This time, we’ll explore how our hypothetical time traveler could get a seat – and, with
a bit of maneuvering, a good seat – during the games at the Colosseum.
First, a bit of background.
Seating in the Colosseum, like so much else in the Roman world, was regimented by social
class.
The best seats, closest to the arena, were reserved for the emperor, the Vestal Virgins,
and Senators.
This section, known as the podium, consisted of marble terraces designed to carry the chairs
from which the elite surveyed the world.
Every spectator in this privileged tier was attended by at least one slave, who would
carry their chair, shield them from the sun, and serve refreshments.
Above the podium was the Colosseum’s equivalent of business class: tiers of wide marble seats
where members of the Equestrian order sat in relative ease and comfort, separated from
the masses by a high stone wall.
The main seating section was above the Equestrians.
Here, row after row of narrow marble benches held the bulk of the audience: all male, all
Roman citizens, all sweating in wool togas.
These seats were divided into dozens of sections reserved for members of various guilds and
associations.
The highest and worst seats were located along the rim of the perimeter wall, in the stifling
semi-darkness just below the awning that shielded the arena from sun and rain.
In this section, slaves, women, and other low-status spectators stood shoulder to shoulder
on tiers of rickety wooden planks, fifty meters and a world away from the senators in their
padded seats.
Having reviewed how seating worked, we can move on to the practicalities.
Gladiators only fought in the Colosseum about a dozen times in an average year.
Time travelers who want to see the arena in action should thus plan their visit to coincide
with Saturnalia, when the emperors almost always put on a series of games.
Those with an appetite for the truly spectacular should point their time machines toward 80
AD, when Titus dedicated the Colosseum with a spectacular series of events, or toward
107 AD, when Trajan staged games that lasted four months and featured no fewer than 5,000
pairs of gladiators.
Now, how to get tickets.
The tickets used in the Colosseum were known as tesserae.
Sometimes, tesserae were specially-made tokens of lead or ceramic.
Often, they were just shards of pottery.
Whatever form they took, they showed three numbers: gate, section, and row.
On the day of the games, a spectator showed his tessera to an attendant, who directed
him to the proper gate.
Ushers in the stands ensured that he sat in the proper section and row.
The games held in the Colosseum were free.
Tesserae, however, were in limited supply.
Unlike modern tickets, they were not sold or otherwise made available to the general
public.
Instead, they were given in blocks to important individuals and guilds.
These men and organizations could then distribute them as they wished to friends and clients.
Time travelers looking to get their hands on a tessera have a few options.
Short of just stealing one, which would be unwise for several reasons, all these options
begin with finding a well-connected Roman friend.
If you’ve chosen your persona well – see the first video in this series for more advice
on that critical topic – this will not be difficult, since many members of the Roman
elite like to associate themselves with intriguing foreigners.
After impressing a potential patron, ideally over dinner – a topic that will be discussed
in a future video – time travelers will usually have to do no more than gently suggest
that they would like to attend the coming games.
The quality of the seat obtained through these tactics will depend on the identity of your
patron and the nature of your chosen persona.
Many prominent Romans had access to both guest seats in their own sections and client seats
in the less desirable stands high above.
You’ll only be given one of the cherished guest seats if you manage to convince your
host that you are both fascinating and important.
One way of achieving this would be to hint that you’re on some sort of diplomatic mission,
since ambassadors were customarily seated with senators in the front rows.
A less risky strategy would be to simply present yourself as a person of wealth and distinction
in your distant native land, and hope that your patron wants to be seen with an exotic
visitor.
The best case scenario is a seat on the podium beside the senators.
If you manage to pull this off, you’ll have a superb vantage point both for watching the
action in the arena and for gawking at the emperor, whose box was located among the senatorial
seats.
You can also look forward to a comfortable chair, specially-prepared refreshments, and
fine wine.
If your seat is located in the Equestrian section, you’ll still have plenty of leg
room.
But you’ll be sitting on hard marble, so bring a seat cushion.
You’ll also have to bring your own food, or be ready to order it during intermissions.
If your host decides that you are not in fact important, and relegates you to the main seating
section with his other clients, you can count on a narrow place on a narrow bench, where
you will be elbowed, kneed, and jostled for the duration of the games.
If you value personal space, get ready for a very long day.
Finally, if the only seat your host cares to give you is located in the wooden benches
along the rim of the arena, be prepared to stand all day, and know that, unless you have
exceptional eyesight, the action on the arena will be almost invisible.
If this happens to you, I’d suggest time traveling to a different era, finding a better
patron, and trying again.
As always, there’s more to say.
But in the interests of time, and since I’m more than a little jet-lagged at the moment,
we’ll pause here.
I have a whole series of exciting videos planned for the coming weeks, so stay tuned.
In the meantime, check out my forthcoming book, Naked Statues, Fat Gladiators, and War
Elephants, which provides prospective time travelers with a great deal of useful information
for navigating the classical world.
Thanks for watching.