Not de Torch O Jesus!!

"Please no!"
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http://ancientimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/tunica-molesta-roman-execution-ad.html
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Thursday, December 9, 2010
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The Tunica Molesta: Roman Execution Ad Flammas
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http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KPGgMS4nBJg/TQAV1M4cvHI/AAAAAAAABN0/ZLkrfww7yV8/s1600/NerosTorchesbyHenrykSiemiradzki1876.jpg
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Nero's Torches (1876) by Henryk Siemiradzki
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Warning: the following passage contains a very graphic description of the execution of four criminals condemned for arson by Commodus in the 2nd century CE. Reader discretion is advised.
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http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Commodus_Musei_Capitolini_MC1120.jpg
Image via Wikipedia
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The Roman Emperor Commodus dressed as Hercules
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"Upon each platform had been erected a wooden cross, from which hung a condemned man. All four were arsonists, whose crimes had been committed at Brundisium and Capua in the south, Aquileia in the north, and at Rome. They each wore a tunic, but it was no ordinary tunic: it was black, and glistened in the sunlight. Each of the condemned wore the tunica molesta: the garments had been soaked in pitch. The arsonists were to be punished according to the nature of their crimes; they were condemned ad flammas...they were to be burned alive in the arena.
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When they saw the four convestores entering the arena, the condemned started to scream and moan, begging the crowd for mercy. The crowd screamed back at them. They turned to the Emperor, their faces contorted in terror. Commodus merely smiled, gave them a friendly wave, and sat back comfortably.
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Each confector carried a burning torch, which would be touched to the tunica molesta of each criminal. As they watched the approach of the confectores, two of the condemned lost control of their bowels. When he saw the faeces running down their legs, Commodus turned to those nearest him with an indulgent smile, as if sharing in some witticism at a theatrical performance.
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The time of their death was now upon them. The torches of the confectores touched their pitch-soaked clothes, and the flames sprang to them, as if escaping imprisonment. Wrapped in cloaks of fire, the condemned began to scream as the burning pitch closed upon their flesh. Four columns of black smoke rose into the air above the arena. In revolting agony the bodies of the condemned writhed; in excitement and hilarity writhed those of the spectators. Skulls split with the heat, revealing the grey pulp within; stomachs burst, disgorging boiling entrails. The awful stench of roasting flesh filled the arena. Presently, the screams ceased, and the only sound that could be heard, other than the shouts of the crowd, was the crackle of the ravenous flames. - Alan Baker, The Gladiator: The Secret History of Rome's Warrior Slaves

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