Flavian Amphitheater

The first thing you notice is the ground beneath you. It is not quite level. Old paving stones dip and rise, worn smooth by centuries of feet. Then there is the light. It falls into the great oval and catches the warm brick and the grey volcanic stone. Below you, dark openings in the floor lead down into cool, shadowed corridors. The air there smells faintly of damp earth.

You are standing in the Flavian Amphitheater, but not the one most people picture. You are in Pozzuoli, a seaside town just west of central Naples. In Roman times it was called Puteoli. This arena is among the largest the Romans built in Italy. Many visitors are surprised to learn that it ranks behind only a small number of others, including the Colosseum in Rome.

The name gives a clue to its age. The Flavians were a family of emperors who ruled in the late first century. Vespasian founded the dynasty, and his sons Titus and Domitian followed him. The same family built the Colosseum in Rome. Historians generally date this amphitheatre to the same era. So two great arenas rose at roughly the same time, about two hundred kilometres apart.

Why build something so large here? Puteoli was one of the busiest ports in the Roman world. Ships arrived with grain from Egypt and goods from across the Mediterranean. Merchants, sailors, and traders filled its streets. A wealthy town with a large population wanted entertainment on a grand scale. An inscription found at the site credits the town itself with paying for the building. That was a statement of civic pride.

Interestingly, Puteoli already had an older, smaller amphitheatre. Its remains lie not far from here. As the town grew richer, the old arena was no longer enough. The new one could hold tens of thousands of spectators. They sat in tiers of seating that rose around the oval. Today much of the upper seating is gone. But you can still trace the shape of the stands with your eyes.

Now look closely at the walls. You will see brick and blocks of local tuff, a soft volcanic stone. Here is a fact many visitors miss. The Romans used a special volcanic ash in their concrete. They called it pulvis puteolanus, the dust of Puteoli. It came from this very area. When mixed with lime, it set hard, even underwater. Today geologists still call this material pozzolana, after the town where you are standing.

The true heart of this place lies below the arena floor. Walk down into the underground level, the part the Romans built for machinery and animals. This lower level is unusually well preserved. Many amphitheatres lost theirs to collapse or reuse. Here you can still walk through long vaulted passages. Light comes down in narrow shafts from openings above. It is cooler here, and the sounds of the outside world fade.

Look up as you walk. You will see rectangular openings in the ceiling. These were the trapdoors. Animals waited in cages along the corridors. Workers used ropes and lifting systems to raise the cages up to the arena floor. Then the animals would appear suddenly in front of the crowd. Researchers have studied the slots and fittings that remain in the stone. They help explain how the whole system worked.

The arena also has a place in Christian tradition. According to a well-known legend, Saint Januarius was condemned here in the early fourth century. Saint Januarius is the patron saint of Naples, known locally as San Gennaro. The story says he and his companions were thrown to wild beasts. But the animals refused to attack them. The tale is a matter of faith rather than documented history. Even so, a small chapel inside the amphitheatre remembers him.

After the Roman world faded, this arena had a long and quiet afterlife. The land around Pozzuoli is volcanic and restless. The nearby Solfatara crater still steams today. Over the centuries, volcanic material and soil buried much of the amphitheatre. For a long time it lay hidden under fields and earth. Serious excavation began in the nineteenth century. The diggers found the underground level largely intact beneath the debris.

The ground here has another surprise. The whole Pozzuoli area slowly rises and sinks over time. Scientists call this bradyseism. It comes from the movement of magma and gases deep below the Phlegraean Fields, the volcanic zone around you. Down by the harbour, old Roman columns show marks from sea creatures. This proves the sea once covered them. The land you stand on has moved up and down many times.

As you explore, notice the fragments scattered around the edges. Broken columns, carved blocks, and pieces of marble lie in neat rows. Some come from the amphitheatre itself. Others may come from buildings nearby. Many details of their original use are uncertain. But each piece carries marks of the tools that shaped it. Run your eye along the edges and you can see the work of human hands.

The atmosphere here is very different from the crowds of Rome. On many days it is calm. You may hear birds, a passing train, or traffic from the town. Lizards warm themselves on the stones. Pine trees and wild plants grow around the outer ring. It is easy to sit for a while on a low wall and simply look.

Before you leave, stand once more in the open arena. Look at the oval of brick around you, and at the dark openings in the floor. Think of the noise that once filled this space. Then listen to the quiet of today. As you walk back into Pozzuoli, notice the volcanic stone in the newer buildings, and the sea just beyond. The same earth that built this arena is still under your feet.