Thousands of slaves died on the cross: Spartacus' revolt brought Rome to the brink of the abyss and ended in a massacre

It began harmlessly. In the summer of 73 BC, slaves from a gladiator school near Capua in southern Italy plotted an escape. This happened again and again. Understandably so. Gladiators lived dangerous lives; life in the schools was almost unbearable. The men were treated like animals by gladiator masters who bought slaves for their own needs: prisoners of war, criminals, and destitute farmworkers.

The slaves were trained in the relevant fighting techniques and had to perform in arenas. As fighters with spears, swords, clubs, and daggers. With and without armor. In more or less original disguises. As the sea god Neptune, for example. Naked, armed only with a trident and a fishing net. Sometimes with their bare fists. The fights followed clear rules. But they were bloody. Injuries were commonplace, and sometimes there were even deaths.

The entrepreneurs who employed the fighters earned good money. Gladiator games were popular. In Rome alone, there were over a dozen of them every year; an arena was a basic feature of every self-respecting Roman city. As a gladiator, one could make a name for oneself. But the price was high, the pay meager. Even experienced fighters remained slaves for a long time, the property of a gladiator master who exhibited them as he saw fit.

To escape their undignified existence, many gladiators chose suicide. Seneca tells of a Germanic man in a gladiator school who, in desperation, shoved a sponge-tipped stick hanging from the latrine, which was used to clean his anus, down his throat. Another is said to have deliberately leaned so far out from the chariot during transport to the arena that his head caught in the spokes of the wheel, breaking his neck. Mass suicide by gladiators is mentioned several times.

Some tried to escape. But it wasn't easy. Gladiator schools were as heavily guarded as barracks. The fighters were the schoolmasters' capital. Trained men weren't found on the street, and the investment in training was expected to be worthwhile. Those who fled had to expect the worst: harsh punishments, torture. But in the end, perhaps it was still better to have attempted to free oneself than to surrender to fate without resistance.

The slaves from the gladiator school in Capua dared. And they succeeded. Two hundred are said to have planned the escape. At the last minute, the venture threatened to fail. The conspiracy was betrayed. Around eighty men nevertheless managed to escape. They overpowered the guards, seized their weapons, and fled. Plutarch writes that they had previously armed themselves with knives and spits in the kitchen. They had no access to the weapons they used for training and performances. They were kept under lock and key. This was wise.

Shortly after the breakout, the fugitives ambushed a wagon transporting fencing weapons on the road and ambushed it. Then they chose leaders. One was called Crixus, the other Oenomaus. Both Gauls. Spartacus was appointed commander-in-chief. A giant of a man, he came from Thrace, present-day Bulgaria. He had performed in the arena as "Murmillo." These were elite gladiators. The toughest guys. They fought with a large, rectangular shield and the heavy sword of the legionaries. Their weapons and armor weighed almost 20 kilograms.

Spartacus was not only strong. He was also said to have distinguished himself through his sharp mind and good character. The ancient historian Appian writes that he had previously served in the Roman army. He then deserted, was captured and enslaved, and worked as a fencing instructor. Whether this is true is unknown. The fact that the revolt was successful for a long time seems to confirm this: Spartacus clearly knew how a legion functioned. And what was expected of its commanders.

When the owner of the gladiator school learned of the escape, he gathered a troop of volunteers and sent them after the slaves. The result was unsuccessful. The men were overpowered. Meanwhile, news of the gladiators' escape had spread like wildfire. Slaves, shepherds, and escaped prisoners of war came from all over and joined Spartacus's troop. Most were Gauls, Thracians, and Germanic tribes. But Romans also joined in. Impoverished peasants, day laborers.

Together they marched through Campania and Lucania, looting to obtain what they needed for their survival. Soon, Appian says, there were ten thousand of them. This figure is hardly an exaggeration. In any case, the local law enforcement agencies were unable to put down the revolt. The slaves easily overpowered the much too small, poorly organized troops.

In Rome, too, people had heard of the uprising and reacted. But half-heartedly. They didn't take the matter entirely seriously. There had been repeated slave revolts. But after a few weeks, they always fizzled out. So there was no reason to worry. The Senate sent a praetor. Not a consul, just the second-highest official. And he wasn't given a regular troop. He had to recruit it himself. The commissioner, Gaius Claudius Glaber, brought together three thousand men. They were more or less poorly trained and moderately motivated, because there was no good booty to be had in this battle.

The slaves had now set up camp on a side plateau of Mount Vesuvius, which at that time was covered with trees and bushes right up to the top. And with wild vines. No one knew that Mount Vesuvius was a volcano. The last eruption had occurred so long ago that no one remembered. Spartacus had chosen the base cleverly. The small plain on which the slaves had set up camp was enclosed by rocks on three sides and had only a few entrances that were easily controlled. She had Glaber occupy it and ordered the soldiers to wait until the rebels ran out of water and food.

Spartacus seems to have anticipated this. He had secured an emergency exit. And made preparations: The rebels wove ladders from the tendrils of wild vines, allowing them to climb over the rocks without the Romans noticing. They marched around the mountain, attacked Glaber's men from behind, and routed them. The soldiers fled in a panic.

Now there was no stopping them. Encouraged by their success, Spartacus' troops began attacking estates and villages. And destroying them. They are said to have devastated entire cities like Nola, Nuceria, Thurii, and Metapont. Almost every day, more and more malcontents joined the movement. Soon there were supposedly seventy thousand, writes Appian. This number is not accurate. But the revolt had reached a level that put the Romans in distress. A second Roman army was sent out. And wiped out. According to Plutarch, one of the commanders was overpowered by the slaves while taking a bath near Pompeii.

For months, Spartacus and his men led the Roman troops. Smaller battles broke out repeatedly. The rebels won all the victories. Roman officers tried to distinguish themselves, daring bold advances. Without success. One after another, they disgraced themselves. The slaves took prestigious booty: the praetor's horse, the standards of several cohorts, and bundles of rods, the kind carried by officials' attendants as a symbol of their authority.

The Roman soldiers had no answer to the might of the slaves. The core of Spartacus' troops consisted of gladiators. Fighting machines. They were often better trained than the legionaries. Over the months, they had acquired a considerable arsenal of weapons. And they fought with the courage of desperation. If they were captured, an agonizing death awaited them. Everyone knew that.

At the beginning of 72 BC, the slaves began to move north. Possibly also to Rome. Only then did the Senate acknowledge the seriousness of the situation and dispatch regular troops under the command of a consul. It wasn't easy. The troops were tied up. In Spain, in the Balkans, in Asia Minor. Wherever they were needed. The Roman army was relatively small compared to the size of the empire. At the beginning of the 1st century BC, there were 25 to 30 legions. Including auxiliary troops, around 150,000 men. That was enough to secure the hotbeds of conflict on the borders. Not much more.

Spartacus' army skillfully expanded the battlefield. Fighting took place throughout Lower Italy and on the Apennines. Some of the rebels advanced into Upper Italy. Near Mutina, present-day Modena, they defeated a detachment commanded by the governor of Gaul. In Rome, there was now open talk of war. The war soon entered its third year without Rome gaining control. According to Appianus, Spartacus is said to have gathered 120,000 men around him by the end.

The Senate decided to mobilize all its forces. Marcus Licinius Crassus, a man of immense wealth and considerable military skill, assumed supreme command. With six legions, some of which were newly recruited, he marched against Spartacus, united the troops in central Italy with what remained of the consular troops, and went all out. To impress the soldiers on the gravity of the situation, he is said to have decimated part of the troops. According to good ancient Roman custom, this meant that every tenth soldier was killed. The lot determined who would die. This was a disciplinary measure designed to ensure that the remaining soldiers would be even more determined.

Crassus, too, was initially duped. Instead of seeking battle in central Italy or marching on Rome, Spartacus gathered his troops in southern Italy, at the tip of the boot. His goal was to ferry his men to Sicily. A daunting task. And it failed. The pirates Spartacus had commissioned to transport them abandoned him. Crassus had since advanced, and the legions from Thrace and Spain were massing in Calabria and Apulia. The Romans built large fortifications between the Ionian and Tyrrhenian Seas, blocking the slaves' escape routes.

After a series of skirmishes, the decisive battle took place on the Silarus River, on the border of Campania and Lucania. Spartacus's troops had shrunk considerably. He probably still had around 30,000 men. They faced a Roman army of 60,000 to 70,000 soldiers—roughly the size of the one Caesar would use to subjugate Gaul a decade later. The battle is said to have lasted a long time, but the result was clear: Rome subdued the rebels. Spartacus was wounded but is said to have continued fighting bravely, but eventually succumbed to his injuries. His body was never found.

After Spartacus' death, the rebels were disoriented and discouraged. Their fighting spirit was extinguished, and resistance collapsed. The whole thing ended in a massacre. More than ten thousand slaves are said to have fallen. Several thousand fled, but didn't get far. They ran towards a legion advancing from northern Italy. Six thousand rebels were captured and punished – in a gruesome manner. Appian writes that Crassus had each one crucified. On the Via Appia, between Capua and Rome. Along Italy's most important transport route, the dead were meant to testify to what awaited those who dared to challenge the Roman state.

A victory for Rome. But one bought at a high price. The Spartacus War was a disgrace, the historian Florus judged some two hundred years later. Slaves taking up arms against the Roman state! That couldn't be allowed. People without any social standing got the public into such a predicament that it could only save itself by mobilizing its last reserves. A deserter had managed to outsmart the Roman legions with clever guerrilla tactics. There was no way to sugarcoat that, Florus thought. A total failure of the institutions.

Appian, who also wrote in the first half of the 2nd century AD, presents the whole thing in a milder light. He assesses Spartacus, in particular, more positively: a ruthless general who did everything to harm Rome, of course. He is said to have ritually sacrificed three hundred Roman prisoners of war as a funeral offering for a fallen comrade. At the same time, however, Appian portrays him as a man driven by a longing for freedom. He is said to have persuaded his fellow slaves to flee: they should fight for their freedom rather than allow themselves to be exploited for a cheap spectacle.

Appian also reports that Spartacus strictly ensured that the spoils from his raids were distributed equally among the rebels. He forbade the possession of gold and silver. He apparently claimed no special position for himself. In military matters, he was in command. The hierarchy was clear in that regard. Apart from that, everyone was equal. Plutarch almost portrays Spartacus as a noble savage. He was proud, clever, and of a gentle character, he writes: "better than his station and his fate—and more Greek than his birth."

From there, the line leads almost seamlessly to Karl Marx. In a letter to Friedrich Engels in February 1861, he reported that he read Appian in the evenings to relax. Spartacus completely captivated him: "... the most famous man the whole of ancient history has to offer. A great general (no Garibaldi), a noble character, a true representative of the ancient proletariat." A clear judgment, and Marx was not the only one to glorify Spartacus in this way. Even before the French Revolution, he had become the epitome of the freedom hero. Lessing planned a drama about him, as did Grillparzer. Neither was completed.

The communists made Spartacus an icon. Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht called the association of socialist Marxists that planned the revolution of the proletariat during the First World War the "Spartacus League." The slave leader also lent his name to the "Spartakiad," the Soviet equivalent of the Olympic Games. Stanley Kubrick portrayed the Thracian slave in his epic 1960 film, starring Kirk Douglas as an indomitable freedom hero. A 2013 television series portrayed him as an apocalyptic avenger of the disenfranchised.

Spartacus is still alive today when it comes to freedom and rebellion. What the historical Spartacus's true intentions were, however, is difficult to say. And what his fellow conspirators wanted is even more impossible to determine. Their life situations were far too diverse for them to have committed to a common goal. The uprising did not follow a clear plan. It seems to have been driven by short-term considerations. The entourage moved wherever it could gather plunder or harass Roman troops – until it was itself harassed.

Spartacus's troops were more than a band of robbers. But political motives were far from their minds. They had no plans to reorganize the state. This is evident from the fact that they avoided invading Rome. It would have been easy for 40, 50,000 armed men to attack the public at the center of power. They didn't do it, even though they came close to the capital several times. It was hardly because they didn't feel strong enough. They wanted to free themselves from the oppressive conditions in which they had been trapped. Nothing more. And at some point, they probably couldn't escape the frenzy of plundering.

Perhaps Spartacus fell victim to his initial success, and to the vague hopes his followers placed in him. After the victory at Mutina, the way would have been clear to leave Italy—to Gaul, Germania, or Thrace. Perhaps Spartacus would have returned to his homeland if his followers hadn't urged him to lead them back to central and southern Italy. The fact that the seemingly invincible forces found themselves in increasing distress from then on was not only due to Rome concentrating its forces, but also to the fact that their internal unity began to break down.

Who Spartacus was will always remain a mystery. The "most famous fellow the whole of ancient history has to offer," as Marx put it? Given his penchant for cruelty, doubts are justified. He was certainly not the true representative of the ancient proletariat, despite the "communism" he established in his army. He had just as little political perspective as he had any idea of how a just state could function economically. One thing, however, Spartacus was undoubtedly: a great general. After all, he managed to form a group of motley desperados into an army that kept the Roman state on edge for almost three years, at one point bringing it to the brink of the abyss.