ther, Caracalla, had slaughtered tens of thousands of helpless human beings. Elagabalus played practical jokes on his subjects, rarely with discretion, but with no intent to harm. He was prankish as boys of his age sometimes are. In terms of our 20th century attitudes he was perhaps at times brutal. But gladiatorial combats and the even crueller sports of the massive Roman circuses found little favor with him. He preferred the lewd comic shows that were put on as intermission features. And during his reign these became so filthy as to make even the jaded Romans blink: what had been merely suggested in previous years must, by Elagabalus command be acted out completely. Yet if these were in deplorable taste, they still shed no innocent blood and gave no agonizing deaths to humans or animals. He could not, for fear of too much displeasing the populace, withdraw the vicious "games," but he shortened them.

But he did not truly enjoy public appearances. He much preferred entertainments within the palace. His banquets were incredibly lavish. At one, all the food was blue, to honor the color of a winning chariot team. At another, the domed ceiling of the banquet hall was made to revolve while showering down rose petals over diners, food and all. The walls of the room were arranged to slide by machinery, so that a different decor was provided for every course in the night-long feast. One of the young Emperor's favorite jokes was to place before some unsuspecting guest, at each course, not real but simulated food. Initially this was made out of painted wax. But at later banquets "apples were carved out of crystal, peas were made of gold, beans of amber, lentils of rubies." The victim of the prank was compensated for his embarrassment

by being allowed to pocket the false comestibles.

In the early phase of Elagabalus' reign, his wise grandmother, Julia Maesa, the Augusta, was able to govern for him. But he soon tired of her control. And this marked the beginning of the end. For he was too keen on his own pleasures to give proper thought and time to the governing of his people. And though he meant to be kind and fair, reducing taxes where possible, refusing to murder rivals and malcontents according to the time-honored custom, refusing even to enlarge his treasury by confiscating the property of wealthy plotters against him, yet he failed as Emperor. He gave responsible positions to unscrupulous, low-born friends-men whom he had enjoyed sleeping with, but who lacked his high principles in politics. These men abused their offices and the citizens blamed Elagabalus. But perhaps most importantly, as a Syrian the boy could not believe that any member of his own family would plot against him. Yet two of them did. First his aunt, Mamea, mother of his cousin Alexianus, handsome and winning and only four years junior to Elagabalus, planted ugly rumors about the Emperor in the army camp. The soldiers began to sicken of Elagabalus. To the Augusta, his wise old grandmother, this meant only one thing, that the beautiful charioteer was finished. But it did not make her unhappy. Alexianus was her grandson too, and tractable, not uncontrolable like Elagabalus. She grimly decided to manage the plot against him.

The ending of the story is abrupt and as unpleasant as it is inevitable. But it is important here to point out that it was not his homosexuality, however well-publicised, that caused this boy emperor to meet a violent death at the hands of his once-loyal troops, while cowering with his

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