From the days of Late Antiquity and well into the Ottoman era, one manmade space pulsated at the core of Constantinople’s life – a long, U‑shaped racing circuit where the roar of tens of thousands of citizens once echoed. In its heyday the Hippodrome could hold vast crowds (ancient sources claim up to 100,000, though modern estimates settle around 30,000–60,000). These spectators gathered not merely to watch chariot races, but to witness a spectacle that blended sport, ritual, politics and public catharsis. It was an arena where emperors mingled with subjects, triumphs were celebrated, grievances voiced, and even rebellions ignited. Today the name Hippodrome of Constantinople might sound exotic, but its memory survives under a very ordinary appellation: the trapezoidal plaza of Sultanahmet Square, near the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Little of the original structure remains above ground, but the square’s plan roughly follows the ancient track’s outline. In time “Hippodrome” yielded to Turkish At Meydanı (“Horse Square”) and ultimately Sultanahmet Meydanı, named after Sultan Ahmed I.

The Hippodrome’s significance lay not only in its size but in its role as the social, political and sporting heart of the Byzantine capital. For over a millennium it united the city’s classes: the emperor and the people watched side by side (or just yards apart) as chariots thundered around the track. The factions of Blues and Greens – originally athletic clubs – became powerful social parties, and the Hippodrome could double as a forum or an execution ground. Its stones bore witness to the pomp of imperial processions and to the fury of the Nika Revolt (532 CE), when citizens rose against Emperor Justinian in a spree of violence that left thousands dead and half the city in ashes.

The term hippodrome (Greek ἵππος + δρόμος) literally means “horse course.” From its inception, the Constantinopolitan Hippodrome was designed for one main purpose: chariot racing. This was the premier spectacle of the ancient and Byzantine world – the equivalent of modern football or Formula One – and it naturally became the central public space of the capital. Along with sporting contests, the Hippodrome was also a stage for parades, triumphs and public ceremonies. Some Roman circuses even hosted gladiatorial combats or religious processions, and Constantinople’s Hippodrome followed suit at times. Official proclamations might be read there, criminals executed in full view of the crowd, or the emperor celebrated. But the rhythmic crashing of chariots around the long track was the sight and sound that gave the Hippodrome its life.

The Hippodrome of Constantinople has been described as “the sporting and social centre of Constantinople”. In Byzantine times it was colloquially called At Meydanı (Turkish for “Horse Square”), hinting at its equestrian destiny. After the Ottoman conquest of 1453 it continued in service as the city’s principal square, retaining the name At Meydanı. Only in the twentieth century did the area take on the name Sultanahmet Square, after the Ottoman sultan who built the neighboring mosque. Thus the question “What is the Hippodrome called now?” has a straightforward answer: it survives in the footprint and name of Sultanahmet Meydanı. Beneath the cobbles today lie clues to a grand past, and in the plaza stand three ancient monoliths – the Obelisk of Theodosius, the Serpent Column, and the Walled Obelisk – which were once part of the Hippodrome’s original decoration.

The Birth of a Legend: Origins and Construction

Before Constantinople: The First Hippodrome in Byzantium

Long before the name “Constantinople” had been coined, a modest racecourse stood in the town of Byzantium on the European shore of the Bosporus. Emperor Septimius Severus (r. 193–211 AD) rebuilt Byzantium around 203 AD after military victory, and he endowed the city with many public works, including a small hippodrome. This early circus was on a much smaller scale, befitting a provincial Greek town. It provided entertainment for the local populace, likely hosting chariot races and public games. Ancient accounts simply note that “Severus rebuilt the city and added a hippodrome, an arena for chariot races”. Severus’s building program laid the foundation for Byzantium’s later rise, and his hippodrome continued in use as the city passed from Roman to Byzantine hands.

Under Severus, Byzantium had been enlarged and fortified, but it remained far from the empire’s limelight. Only in the early 4th century did a new emperor transform the city’s fortunes.

Who Built the First Hippodrome? The Vision of Septimius Severus

The credit for Byzantium’s first hippodrome goes to Septimius Severus. This North African-born emperor conducted a grand tour of the Eastern provinces in 202–203 AD, reestablishing Roman control after civil strife. During the campaign, he besieged Byzantium, which had sided with his rival Pescennius Niger. With the city secured, Severus decided to rebuild it on a larger scale. He extended the city walls and commissioned major civic monuments, one of which was the first hippodrome. We know little of this original structure’s exact dimensions or decoration, but it would have been much smaller than its later incarnation. In a provincial city of Byzantium’s size, a sizeable hippodrome already signaled imperial favor and helped legitimize Severus’s regime. It also introduced horse racing as a staple of local culture.

Severus himself likely oversaw the project or entrusted it to trusted architects. At roughly the time he ordered the enlargement of the Byzantine walls, he may also have laid out the hippodrome’s basin. Whatever the case, chronicles simply tell us that in 203 AD “the Emperor Septimius Severus rebuilt the city… endowing it with a hippodrome”. For centuries afterward, Byzantines remembered Severus as the founder of the first circus in their city. His building, however, was destined to be eclipsed. When a new capital arose, the emperor who built it would expand that humble arena a hundredfold.

Early Design and Function in a Roman Provincial City

Detail on the early hippodrome is sparse, but we can infer certain aspects from what became standard in Roman circuses. Severus’s hippodrome likely consisted of a long central racing track flanked by earthen embankments or simple seating for spectators. It would have been U‑shaped like later examples. The track’s starting gates (carceres) stood at one end, and an imperial viewing box (kathisma) may have been set at the other, though at this stage it might have been no more than a raised platform for officials. In Roman tradition, the emperor or governor would sit in an elevated pavilion aligned with the central axis, making himself visible to all participants.

Functionally, Severus’s hippodrome served several purposes. Its main use was entertainment: gladiatorial combats and chariot races, which were immensely popular pastimes across the empire, occurred here. But it would also have hosted public festivities – triumphal parades after military victories, athletic games in honor of local gods, and perhaps even the proclamation of laws or imperial decrees to the people. Ancient circuses doubled as venues for carrying out sentences, such as executions or flagellation of criminals, sometimes dramatized as part of public penance. In Byzantium, the hippodrome also became a political arena: supporters of rival politicians or factions could gather there, chanting slogans or voicing grievances. Such assemblies could sway local council decisions or, in rare cases, challenge the authorities. However, under Severus the hippodrome was simply one of many civic projects meant to romanize Byzantium and increase its prestige. Only later would it assume the outsized significance it came to have.

The Great Expansion: Constantine’s Imperial Vision

When Emperor Constantine I (r. 306–337 AD) decided to create a new capital for the Roman Empire, he chose Byzantium as the site. In 324 he reconquered the city from his rival Licinius and began to refound it. In 330 AD he ceremonially dedicated “Nova Roma” (New Rome) – though the name did not stick, and the city henceforth was called Constantinople. It was to be a capital to rival Rome itself, and every grand structure of Rome would be emulated or surpassed. The hippodrome was no exception. Constantine ordered a complete rebuild and enlargement of Severus’s modest circus as part of his massive urban renewal.

The new Hippodrome of Constantine rose to imperial scale. Contemporary sources and archaeological reconstructions indicate its dimensions at roughly 450 meters long and 130–200 meters wide. One lap around the track measured approximately 300–450 meters, enough for seven circuits in a typical race. Grandstands of stone replaced earthen bleachers, divided by twelve starting gates (carceres) at the north end. Along the east side of the track was a lofty, roofed imperial box, the kathisma, with its own entrance passage directly from the adjacent Great Palace. The southern end was a curved and columned tribune called the sphendone, similar to the end of Rome’s Circus Maximus. Taken together, the hippodrome and the palace complex formed an integrated center of power: the emperor could exit the palace and enter the arena without crossing public space.

Constantine’s intention was clear: to have the circus rival even the greatness of Rome’s famed Circus Maximus. Even now, the Hippodrome of Constantinople’s footprint exceeds that of the Colosseum (which was an amphitheater, not a circus). Ancient codices claim up to 100,000 seats, but modern scholars consider 60,000 a more realistic maximum. (By comparison, the Roman Colosseum held roughly 50,000.) Nevertheless, it was enormous: marble steps rose some 12 meters above the track on either side, and a broad moat separated the crowd from the racing course.

The expansion took years. According to later chroniclers, the new Hippodrome officially opened in May 330 AD with lavish games and public festivities. Constantine himself took part, distributing gifts to the populace and enthroning himself as both ruler and patron of the games. From that moment the Hippodrome would always symbolize the glory of the new capital and its divine-foundation myth.

Architectural Marvels: Engineering an Ancient Super-Stadium

Constructing the Hippodrome required advanced engineering and enormous resources. Its foundations alone consumed prodigious quantities of stone. The track’s substructure was laid deep to support the weight of thousands of spectators. As was typical in Roman circuses, the seats were arranged in cavea tiers. Between each tier ran vaulted passageways – for example, the sphendone at the south end was supported by massive vaults, parts of which survive today. Those vaulted chambers later became cisterns in Ottoman times. In fact, one of the Hippodrome’s best-preserved remnants is the core of the sphendone vaulting, found near today’s Nakilbent Street.

The key dimensions underscore the scale of the project. Most reconstructions agree on a length of roughly 400–450 meters and a width (across the straightaways) of about 130–200 meters. The discrepancy in sources arises from different starting and ending points; some count only the track, while others include stairways and parapets. Even so, the Hippodrome was among the world’s largest arenas. By one estimate, its tiers could seat well over fifty thousand people. The need to serve such crowds influenced every design choice.

One illustration of the Hippodrome’s grandeur is the 12-meter height of its seating tiers. Wooden benches filled the lower rows for commoners, while the upper seats held wooden stands. The emperor and his court sat on marble thrones in the kathisma. The massive starting-gate structure at the north end (the Carceres) had multiple arched portals for the chariots, and above it stood a group of gilded bronze horses pulling a chariot. (These bronze horses were later stolen and survive today only in Venice.) At the track’s far end, the sphendone curved back in a sweep of columns and galleries. This end would have been an imposing backdrop for the races, flanked by large murals or flags.

The carceres were the movable starting gates at the northern end. Twelve launch-bays allowed up to 12 teams to line up before the signal. Each gate held a chariot with its four horses, ready to race once the starting barrier dropped. In front of one of these arched portals had stood the quadriga of gilded horses. That sculpture group – four horses in a chariot – was one of the Hippodrome’s most famous decorations. Legend has it that, after the Fourth Crusade, Crusaders took the horses to Venice, where they remain on Saint Mark’s Basilica to this day. As visitors walk by the Basilica, they are literally facing fragments of Constantinople’s Hippodrome glory.

The spina was the central divider along the track’s midline, running the length of the course. It was not merely a fence but an avenue for art and ceremony. On it stood obelisks, statues and altars. The spina’s function was twofold: it forced the chariots to circle around it, thus providing the spectacle of multiple laps, and it provided a spine (hence the name) of imagery and honorifics. We will return to its treasures in the next section.

At the sphendone, the circus narrowed again. This was the semicircular end where charioteers made the crucial turns. It had its own permanent structure of marble and columns. The sphendone’s underside was vaulted, and some of those vaults still survive as foundations of later buildings. In the Roman tradition, the sphendone also often held special statues and trophies at its own center, though nothing of that sort from Constantinople’s Hippodrome has survived archaeologically.

The kathisma was the emperor’s box. Uniquely, it was built into the east side of the Hippodrome, not across the middle of a long side. This orientation meant the emperor could directly face the track head-on. Most importantly, the kathisma was connected by a special gallery to the Great Palace. Two narrow staircases (the Orta Kapı or middle gates) linked the palace’s entrance (the Dikelyon or Saddle Gate) directly to the Hippodrome. Thus the ruler could enter or exit without appearing among the common crowd, symbolically separated yet visible to all. It also gave the emperor a supreme platform: perched high above the track, he was the ultimate judge of the races and of the populace’s mood. This architectural feature reinforced the Hippodrome’s role as an imperial stage.

By the mid-4th century, Constantine’s Hippodrome stood complete – an enormous racing arena bristling with art and power. It was arguably the greatest sports complex of its era.

The Spina: A Museum of Plundered Treasures

The Hippodrome’s spina was more than a spine; it was a treasure chest. Stretching end to end along the track’s centerline, it was decorated with monuments brought from across the empire. One modern commentator calls it “the world’s longest and narrowest museum”—a fitting image. Paradoxically, what survives of Constantinople’s hippodrome art today are mostly relics from the spina. Of the dozens of statues and relics that once lined the spina, three major monuments still stand in the square (though often in fragmentary form): an ancient obelisk, a re-erected column of serpents, and a ruined obelisk of masonry. The others were lost or stolen over the centuries. Together these tell a story of war and tribute, empire and piety.

The Obelisk of Thutmose III (The Obelisk of Theodosius)

On the spina’s length stood three obelisks, and chief among them was the grandest: the Obelisk of Thutmose III, better known in Constantinople as the Obelisk of Theodosius. This was a 3,500-year-old monument from ancient Egypt. Pharaoh Thutmose III had carved it from red granite in around 1460 BCE at Karnak, where it stood as one of a pair. In 390 CE, the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius I transported the obelisk to his capital as a triumphal trophy. It was hauled up the Nile, across the Mediterranean, and then dragged through Byzantine streets to the Hippodrome.

The obelisk itself is a tapering four-sided pillar of pink Aswan granite, about 18.5 meters high (64 feet) from base to tip. Including its pedestal, it reaches roughly 25.6 meters tall. Each side is covered in ancient hieroglyphs, recording Thutmose III’s victories over Syria and Canaan. On arrival, Theodosius had it set atop a newly carved marble pedestal. The marble base is itself a work of art: its relief sculptures depict Theodosius, his young sons and his court watching chariot races and making offerings. It is one of the few components of the Hippodrome’s decoration that remains in situ and relatively intact. The hieroglyphs and carvings still legible on the sides of the obelisk tell stories of Egyptian pharaohs and of Roman emperors — a vivid palimpsest of imperial glory.

Transporting and erecting this colossal shaft was an engineering feat. Ancient accounts say it required a special structure and thousands of men to raise it upright. Iron levers and the methods of antiquity were enough to get it standing. For many centuries afterward, the Obelisk of Theodosius remained a focal point in Constantinople’s skyline. In fact, it continued to stand through the Ottoman period with minimal alteration. Even today, its polished granite and pedestal carvings can be seen in Sultanahmet Square, though time has bleached the images.

The Serpent Column: A Monument of Greek Victory

Just north of the obelisk once stood the famous Serpent Column. This curious artifact predates even Classical Greece. Forged around 480 BCE to celebrate the Greeks’ victory over the Persians at Plataea, it originally stood at Delphi. It is made from bronze melted from captured Persian shields. Three long serpents form the shaft, with their bodies twisted into a spiral. A golden tripod once sat atop their entwined heads.

In Constantine’s day the Serpent Column was removed from Delphi and placed on the Hippodrome’s spina. It was thus rebranded as a trophy of Constantinople’s own triumphal heritage. The bronze entwined serpents (now partially missing) still stand halfway along Sultanahmet Square. The inscription on its pedestal (in Greek) names the city-states that participated at Plataea; even the column’s coil arrangement is said to reflect the ranked contributions of each polis. The monument’s survival into modern times is remarkable. In medieval and Ottoman periods it was converted into a fountain (water ran from the snakes’ mouths), and the bronze serpent heads were removed in 1702 (one was found preserved in a garden and is now in a museum). Today, only the intertwined snake bodies on their stone base are visible. It stands as a silent reminder of an older world – once a symbol of Greek unity against Persia, then a souvenir in Byzantium’s cathedral of sport.

The Walled Obelisk (Masonry Obelisk)

Another Ottoman-era landmark on the Hippodrome site is the “Walled Obelisk,” also called the Masonry Obelisk or the “Obelisk of Constantine Porphyrogenitus.” This is not an Egyptian monolith but a medieval stone tower. It dates from roughly the 10th century, probably built or restored by Emperor Basil I (reigned 867–886) or his grandson Constantine VII. The Livius historian Jona Lendering calls it the Second Obelisk. Carved entirely of rough stones, it rises to about 32 meters in height.

Originally it glittered. Bronze gilded plaques bearing scenes of Basil’s victories were hammered onto its sides. Atop the entire structure sat a golden sphere (a type of globus cruciger) that also served as a sundial needle. Then came 1204: when Crusaders sacked the city, they tore off the bronze decorations to melt them down. The golden sphere was lost as well. What remained was the plain stone core, which still stands (though leaning slightly) just north of the Obelisk of Theodosius. One can make out graffiti and inscriptions on its stone blocks, but no decorative reliefs remain. The name “Walled Obelisk” reflects that it is essentially an obelisk-shaped wall of masonry. Recent archaeology suggests the core may even date back to Severus’s original circus (203 AD), preserved and repurposed through the ages. In any case, it is one of the three ancient monuments still standing on the former spina.

The Lost Statues: Ghosts of the Hippodrome

In addition to these three pillars, the spina once held dozens of other statues and sculptures – all now gone. Ancient writers mention illustrious works by the greatest artists. For example, the Hippodrome was said to display Lysippos’s 4th-century BC bronze Heracles (captured from an earlier palace) and a statue of the Capitoline Wolf (Romulus and Remus under the she-wolf) among its treasures. It also bore statues of emperors, gods, heroes and athletes. Among these were statues of famed charioteers: at least seven were raised to Porphyrius, a great 6th-century champion, although only the pedestals survive in the museum of Istanbul. In fact, these bases still bear inscriptions praising Porphyrius’s victories in our era.

The one set of sculptures we can actually see today only by proxy are those four horses of Saint Mark’s. These gilded bronze horses once graced the roof of the carceres – at the northern entrance, welcoming victors who emerged from the gate. Carved in antiquity (perhaps even as early as the 2nd century BC) and refashioned under Constantinian ateliers, they symbolized the conquest of speed and fire. But in 1204 they were plundered and shipped off to Venice, where they were mounted on the façade of St. Mark’s Basilica. We have seen them in the image above – mounted above Venice’s entrance to ponder their stolen grandeur.

Other bronzes were lost entirely. There were statues of eagles, lucky laurels, and even trophy booty from Persian wars on the spina. Besides Porphyrius, the bestiarii (beast-fighters) and emperors often had images there. A 10th-century palace manual (De Ceremoniis) describes the Hippodrome hung with tapestries and purple canopies, with statues of envoys or fallen foes arrayed around. In short, the spina was like a gallery of empire – a museum corridor open to the sky. Today, aside from the three remaining stelae, we must rely on literary accounts and a few archaeological scraps to re-imagine that lost panorama.

A Day at the Races: The Spectacle of Chariot Racing

To truly understand the Hippodrome one must imagine a race day as the Byzantines saw it. These were lavish public festivals that combined sport, ceremony, and carnival. On a typical occasion, the city would ring with trumpets and the clang of cymbals. Citizens (men, and some women of status) would crowd into the arena’s tiers by dawn. First came processions: teams of charioteers paraded in pomp, often accompanied by elephants, dancers or musicians. Then the actual races began, each one a dangerous whirl around the track.

The Main Event: More Than Just a Sport

Chariot racing was the Hippodrome’s raison d’être. By midday, all focus turned to the start gates at the north end. Twelve chariots – driven by two of the four factions – would line up under the lowered barriers. At a signal (often a raised cloth by the pulvinar at the Emperor’s box), the gates sprang open and the teams thundered forward. Each chariot carried four horses abreast, and thus eight horses competed in every heat. It was not merely a game: fortunes and reputations were on the line with each lap.

Between races there might be brief intervals for rituals. The emperor would appear on a platform on the spina to throw golden coins to the crowd, or a priest might bless the games with incense. Officials would record winners, and slaves would prepare horses for the next heat. The entire day could stretch on for hours, often coinciding with a festival such as Easter or a saint’s day.

Yet the Hippodrome was never “only” sport. Emperors used it to display their magnanimity: Constantine famously distributed cash and clothes to spectators during the opening games. It was also a forum for public business. A victorious general returning from campaign might triumph with his legions down the track, with the emperor resting at the kathisma. Likewise, the Hippodrome provided a stage for admonition: even an embattled emperor could be heckled there. A chronicler notes that if rumors of incompetence or injustice spread, the people could directly confront their ruler in the Hippodrome’s open space, a rare outlet for popular expression.

According to later sources, commemorative games occurred annually. For example, each May 11 (the date of Constantinople’s 330 founding) the Hippodrome held massive festivities, with spoils of war displayed atop the spina. It was said that statues of victorious generals and captured arms were hung around the arena as trophies. Thus every derby was both entertainment and propaganda – an affirmation of imperial ideology.

The Charioteers: Superstars of the Ancient World

If the emperors symbolically owned the arena, the charioteers were its living celebrities. These drivers were the only athletes ever to enjoy near-rock-star status in the ancient world. A victorious charioteer could earn enormous prizes – banks of cash, estates, and exotic gifts – and the adulation of multitudes. The most famous Byzantine charioteers, like Porphyrius the Palatine, are comparable to Michael Jordan in fame. They had nicknames (Porphyrius means “Purple One”) and fan followings. Winning seven consecutive races was celebrated with statues – Porphyrius had seven monuments erected in his honor on the spina.

Life in the starting gate, however, was perilous. Races were run seven laps around the track, an assignment lasting under 5 minutes. Four horses pulling a light chariot at breakneck speed around sharp turns; collisions, overturns and pileups were not uncommon. Charioteers came from many backgrounds. Many were slaves or freedmen who had to gain their liberty and fortune on the course. Some were foreigners – Arabs, Slavs or others – specifically recruited for their driving skill. None, however, was untouchable: a fall could cost life and limb. One account laments how frequently drivers lost control and were crushed or dragged. Yet the high risks made the rewards all the sweeter.

Between the triumphs and casualties, the crowd’s fervor for its heroes was almost religious. After a win, wild cheers erupted. The victorious team held up colored towels (whence the word arena, Latin for sand, referred to the white cloth fans waved). Parades through the city followed, honoring victors as free men. Silken robes were thrown in thanks. A charioteer rich enough might marry into aristocracy. In fact, Emperor Procopius mentions some racers as “the strongest and wealthiest in the city” by virtue of their winnings.

Porphyrius of the Palatine stands out in history. This 6th-century driver won fame by switching loyalties – he won on both the Blue and Green teams – and leading his faction to repeated victories. He was the first to be granted seven statues, an honor never before conferred. A fragment of one base still survives, inscribed with an ode to his glory. Such fame was not unique to Porphyrius: literature and pottery from the time sometimes depict charioteers more prominently than generals. They raced in colored tunics and helmets, the Blues in one color, Greens in another. The very color of a charioteer’s racing suit could endear him to a whole quarter of the audience.

The Teams: More Than Just Colors

Chariot racing in Byzantium was famously divided into four teams, or factions, each identified by a color: the Blues (Venetoi), Greens (Prasinoi), Reds (Rousioi) and Whites (Leukoi). These teams started as simple racing clubs. Each year the four champions of Rome and Constantinople would hold friendly matches in the Circus Maximus and Hippodrome – Victors of Victory. Under Constantine, both cities had “People’s Cup” competitions, drawing attention from both Western and Eastern provinces. The colors became the language of that sport.

In practice, two factions dominated the Istanbul circus: the Blues and the Greens. Over the centuries, the Reds and Whites faded away (or merged with the larger parties) for reasons that are not entirely clear. By the 6th century, almost all the fervor concentrated on Blues vs. Greens. The factions evolved into something like social-political groups. Each faction had its stables, trainers, and sponsors (often senior officials or the emperor himself would patronize a team). They maintained offices and welfare funds. They employed fan clubs and charities that bound ordinary citizens together. Supporters wore scarves or armbands in their faction’s color and collected emblematic banners and songs.

It is tempting to ask: What exactly did the colors mean? Modern historians debate this. The prevailing view is that, by the Byzantine era, these were essentially arbitrary sports labels without deep ethnic or theological meaning. However, chroniclers note that the Blues and Greens often aligned with different social classes or interests. For example, some sources associate the Blues with the Senate and the imperial family, and the Greens with the people and the Church. Athenians of the era also sometimes say the Greens had more supporters among the poor. In any case, these rivalries tended to reflect ongoing tensions in the city. Each game could become a proxy battle for other controversies. If a faction felt slighted by a tax policy or a bishop’s decree, it could stage a demonstration in the Hippodrome, turning the stands into a forum for protest.

Beyond politics, fandom drove passions to extremes. Spectators of the Blues and Greens could not bear to cheer for the other side. During a race, each goal (lap) or victory earned thunderous “W-a-lley!” chants from one crowd or another (the exact chant is disputed but a common shout was reported as “Wääle!”). They threw bread, flowers and coins onto the track. If a race ended in a tie (a nidēma), both factions had cause to riot. Even when the emperor presided in person, shouting in the Hippodrome was risky: Procopius likened the assembly to having a “disease of the soul,” so fierce were these loyalties.

We will see how dangerous this tribal fervor could become during one of the empire’s worst crises.

The Nika Riots: When the Crowd Turned on the Crown

Even an arena of sport could become the scene of rebellion. On 13 January 532 AD, the Hippodrome – full of spectators celebrating the start of new games – became the epicenter of a revolt that threatened the Byzantine Empire itself. These events, known as the Nika Revolt, underscored how the passions kindled by the races could morph into fury directed at the emperor.

What Happened at the Hippodrome of Constantinople?

Under Emperor Justinian I (reigned 527–565), taxation had grown severe and courts became less merciful. In late 531, after months of popular discontent, an incident at the Hippodrome lit the fuse. During the New Year races, members of the Blues and Greens were arrested and put to harsh punishment for past infractions. The next day, representatives of both factions appeared together in the Hippodrome and laid a petition before Justinian: they demanded clemency for their comrades. This was unheard of – the Blues and Greens rarely united. Justinian, frustrated and exasperated by their constant quarrels, refused. He told them there would be no mercy “in this business of factionalism” and declared them criminals. This angered the crowd.

The assembled thousands began to chant “Nika! Nika!” — Greek for “Conquer!” or “Victory!” — a rallying cry of the factions, traditionally used to cheer on favored charioteers. At first, it was meant as encouragement to one of the teams; but now the crowd hurled it at the emperor himself. The shouts “Nika! Nika!” were a thinly veiled threat: the people were conspiring to overthrow him.

That evening Justinian considered fleeing to safety. His wife Theodora, however, famously rebuffed this idea. She declared, according to Procopius, that purple-covered bodies were preferable to a throne without dignity. Spurred on, Justinian took drastic measures. Secretly, he called upon his generals Belisarius and Mundus. The next day, as the chanted crowds marched out of the arena into the city, they were intercepted at the northern entrance by cavalry and infantry hidden nearby. Horses trampled and spears skewered the rioters. Procopius reports the death toll as around 30,000. The savagery of the massacre shocked Constantinople. The Hippodrome itself, the cradle of the riot, was left littered with bodies, though its structures survived the day.

“Nika! Nika!”: Five Days of Fire and Blood

The Nika uprising lasted five days (January 13–18, 532), and for much of it the Hippodrome was the stage. On the first day, rioters seized the Imperial Palace quarters near the Hippodrome, setting fire to buildings and slaughtering chamberlains. On the next day, they (with Hypatius as a puppet emperor) marched to the Hippodrome and reinstated the races, cheering their figurehead. Justinian, trapped in the besieged Great Palace, tried to negotiate peace with the crowd through envoys, but to no avail. All around the city, fires spread – including the burning of the cathedral (the second Hagia Sophia) and other public buildings – while from the palace steps the emperor watched helplessly.

Throughout this chaos, the Hippodrome remained ground zero. It was here that cries of “Nika” echoed first, here that the factions united into one mob, and here that charioteers and senators alike fell under suspicion. Accounts emphasize that, for the first time, the Blues and Greens laid aside their rivalry and chanted in unison against the emperor. The spectators erected a wooden tribune in the arena and crowned a new emperor (Hypatius, the nephew of the former emperor Anastasius) on the spina. The Hippodrome was their parliament, battlefield and execution ground all at once.

That Justinian survived this direct challenge is often attributed to Empress Theodora’s resolve and the loyalty of Belisarius. After Theodora’s intervention, Belisarius and Mundus defied orders to hold fire, and instead cleared the Hippodrome of rioters by closing the exits and slaughtering those trapped inside. The uprising was brutally crushed.

The final tally was grim. Ancient sources say some 30,000 people died – a figure often repeated by historians. Among the fallen were nobles, commoners, even an appointed rival emperor. Hypatius was executed soon after, his body thrown into the Hippodrome to show no alternative to Justinian’s rule. When the day was done, the Hippodrome, like much of the city, lay ravaged. Fires had burned grand stands; stones and weapons littered the arena; even a shipment of building supplies (timber) stored near the track had caught fire. Music and sport, the usual fare, had given way to mayhem.

The Massacre: The Brutal End to the Uprising

In the immediate aftermath of Nika, there was very little celebration at the Hippodrome. Games were suspended for years. Justinian and Theodora had learned a hard lesson about mixing politics with popular passions. Some structural changes followed: the emperor curtailed the power of the factions, limiting their gatherings to official occasions, and changed the routes of processions to avoid the Hippodrome for a time. Theodora ordered the rebuilding of churches and public buildings before even attending to the Hippodrome’s repairs.

Belisarius, returning to the Hippodrome as victor, had the task of clearing out corpses and repairing the minor damage. The spina’s monuments survived, but the public never again saw the Hippodrome in quite the same light. The collapse of the revolt reinforced the emperor’s image as chosen by God, and cemented Justinian’s authority. In fact, in a grim twist, Justinian would shortly commission the building of the new Hagia Sophia on the very site torched by the rioters, asserting that divine grace prevented even its complete destruction. Meanwhile, the Hippodrome reverted to the more ordinary uses of sports and ceremony – its role as a counterweight to imperial power effectively ended.

The Legacy of the Riots

The Nika Riots left an indelible mark on Byzantine history and on the Hippodrome itself. The immediate result was that Justinian’s authority was confirmed – having survived, he became one of the empire’s most powerful and daring rulers, able to embark on vast building projects like the Hagia Sophia and reconquest campaigns in Italy. More subtly, the riot demonstrated how the Hippodrome could become a double-edged sword: it was the ultimate arena for imperial spectacle, but it could also turn into a lethal pressure cooker of popular discontent.

For the Hippodrome, the revolt meant a diminished role in actual governance. After 532 the government took steps to keep the factions in check, and the emperor was wary of allowing too much independence in the arena. Eventually (by the 7th century) official games became less frequent, and the factions were only nominal. Yet the Hippodrome’s symbolic status persisted. It would never again be the mouthpiece of armed revolt, but it remained the site of state pageantry (even Emperor Leo III would later announce new laws from the spina).

Even today the words “Nika” or “Niki” evoke a pivotal moment when the passions of sport and politics intersected fatally. Historians still debate Justinian’s decision to massacre so many for a seditious mob chant, but there is no doubt the Hippodrome was central: for five days it was a riot zone, a rebel camp, an imperial peninsula. The events of January 532 show that the Hippodrome was far more than spectator seating. It was the beating, sometimes violent, heart of an empire.

Decline, Destruction, and Rediscovery

After the mid-6th century, the fortunes of both empire and hippodrome began to wane. The military crises of the 7th century reduced Constantinople’s imperial footprint, and successive emperors held fewer public games. Still, the Hippodrome remained a public forum for another half-millennium. Finally, two cataclysmic events transformed it beyond recognition: the Fourth Crusade of 1204 and the Ottoman conquest of 1453. Centuries of neglect followed, until modern historians and archaeologists began to unearth the buried circus beneath Sultanahmet.

The Fourth Crusade: The Beginning of the End (1204 AD)

Who destroyed the Hippodrome of Constantinople? The short answer is: nobody physically knocked it down in one shot. But it was effectively destroyed by people intent on theft. In 1204, Western Crusaders diverted from their original mission and attacked Constantinople instead. Over two days of pillage, the city’s churches and palaces were ransacked. The Hippodrome, as one of the grandest compounds in the city, was a prime target for looting. The Crusaders tore down whatever they could not cart away whole.

There was gold on the Hippodrome’s poles, silver on its frames, and tons of bronze in its art. The chariot horses on the carceres were taken (to Saint Mark’s, as mentioned above). The gilded bronzework that clung to the Walled Obelisk was pried off. Statues were uprooted. According to a contemporary lament, “nothing bronze, nothing gold, nothing of beauty was left.” Without their statuary and metal, the Hippodrome’s structures fell into disrepair. It was no longer a center of attraction; its games ceased.

The actual fabric of the Hippodrome was spared widespread demolition in 1204. The walls of its stands and the track itself remained largely intact. But the Crusaders’ robbery stripped the Hippodrome of its magnificence. After 1204 it was a ruin: the fountains were dry, the seats unused, the monuments removed or broken. Over the next centuries even its stones were pillaged. The Byzantines who regained the city in 1261 did little to restore the arena. In effect, the 4th Crusade marked the beginning of the end for the Hippodrome’s life as an imperial institution.

Ottoman Era: A New Purpose for an Old Space

When the Ottoman Turks conquered Constantinople in 1453, they inherited an ancient city with mostly empty shells of past glories. The Hippodrome, now filled with debris, was no exception. Rather than rebuild it, the Ottomans gave the area a new role. It became At Meydanı, literally “Horse Square”. In the early years of Ottoman rule it was still an open expanse for public occasions: cavalry parades, processions, and even horse races and javelin competitions were held there. The space between the then-new Blue Mosque and the old Palace became the Sultan’s great plaza.

One of the most famous Ottoman events on the old racecourse was the circumcision festival of Sultan Ahmet III’s sons in 1720. According to contemporary chronicles and miniatures, this elaborate 15-day ceremony unfolded with the old Hippodrome as its arena. Since the Ottomans considered this space open and auspicious, they staged grand processions there in the style of the old Byzantines. Yet during these centuries Ottoman rulers also harvested the site for building materials. Large portions of the Hippodrome’s marble were removed: stones went to construct the Blue Mosque, the walls of Topkapı Palace, and many other buildings around the city. Earth and rubble filled in parts of the track. What remained of the circus gradually leveled to ground level, its outline fading from memory into the soil.

By the 18th century little of the actual structure survived above ground. Ottoman maps label the area At Meydanı and mark in a few standing artifacts (two broken obelisks and a column base) along its middle. Despite this, the region’s horseshoe shape was still evident enough that anyone could trace the Hippodrome’s form on the ground. In time, the Ottoman usage passed. As the empire entered decline, the former horse arena became a more ordinary public park. By the Tanzimat reforms of the 19th century, the site was usually called Sultanahmet Square, after the mosque. The memory of “Hippodrome” lingered chiefly in Western tourist guides. Locals mostly thought of it as At Meydanı, just a faded name.

Rediscovery and Archaeology

Interest in the antiquities of Constantinople grew in the 18th and 19th centuries. Western visitors, such as travelers and diplomats, made sketches and notes. Early archaeological work actually dates back to the 19th century. British Consul Charles Newton led the first digs in 1855, focusing on the Serpent Column, and found its original base inscription. During the Crimean War (1853–56), British military engineers uncovered the marble pedestal of the Obelisk of Theodosius and pieces of the Walled Obelisk. Later, European scholars like Theodor Wiegand and Ernest Mamboury surveyed the remaining ruins, and in 1927–28 Stanley Casson (a British scholar) explored part of the western stands. Finally, Turkish archaeologists resumed work mid-20th century. In 1950 the archaeologist Rüstem Duyuran led excavations of the western end of the Hippodrome for the Istanbul Archaeological Museum.

These efforts confirmed ancient accounts. Beneath Sultanahmet Square today one can find the low foundations and fragmentary seats of the former tiers. A particularly dramatic discovery came in 2012–2014, when restorers working under the old İbrahim Paşa (now the Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum) uncovered a section of the Hippodrome’s vaulted seating galleries. These Greek-cross vaults, once part of the southern sphendone, were preserved under the palace and can now be seen in the museum’s basement. Excavations in front of the Blue Mosque in 1993 brought more marble columns and tiers to light, though regrettably those finds were quickly removed to storage.

By the late 20th century, historians agreed on the Hippodrome’s basic layout and dimensions thanks to these digs. The U-shaped plan was traced: the original northern end lay near the current tram station, the southern curve ended in the present-day tram loop, and the long walls ran along the sides of Sultanahmet Square (some of the underlying walls survive in the foundations of surrounding buildings). In a sense, the old circus lives on: its pavement is modern grass and stone, but its footprint remains a public forum.

Archaeology has also filled in details. We know now that the original Hippodrome likely seated about 30,000 spectators, on par with many Roman circuses (earlier estimates of 100,000 were exaggerations). We have recovered fragments of the chariot starting gates, pieces of the base of the Obelisk of Constantine, and parts of animal bones from the site’s drains. While little can resurrect its former splendor, the spina’s surviving monuments help us “see” the rest: the Obelisk of Theodosius still stands over the subterranean outlines, and the Serpent Column still basely coils against the pavement. Tourists flock to snap these relics, little guessing the full circus that once surrounded them.

The Hippodrome Today: Walking Through History in Sultanahmet Square

Does the Hippodrome of Constantinople still exist? In a way, yes – though not as a complete structure. What remains are fragments and outlines. Visitors to Sultanahmet Square can still stand where the imperial box once was, and measure with their eyes the length of the lost arena. Three ancient monuments are visible on the flat expanse, each carrying its own story.

One cannot miss the Obelisk of Theodosius. It stands tall on its original marble base, face-to-face with the crowd as it did over 1,600 years ago. Its worn hieroglyphs and scenes of Theodosius in triumph are remarkable for having survived. This stone is now 25.6 meters high in total. Next to it is the Serpent Column, a bronze antiquity topped by a fountain basin. You can still see the three intertwined snake bodies rising from a stone base. (Look closely at the base – the coppery-green coils and engraved names of Greek cities are visible.) The column has lost its three serpent heads; one surviving head sits in Istanbul’s Archaeology Museum. Across the square stands the Walled Obelisk – the ruin of the stone “obelisk” covered in graffiti. It rises 32 meters without any ornamentation, but its squat core and traces of lost bronze tell a tale of Medieval Constantinople.

Other than these, little remains. The perimeter of the Hippodrome is marked by rows of lime trees and paved pathways, but no walls. However, the outlines can still be traced. If you walk the length of Sultanahmet Square, you can see it narrows at the ends and bulges in the middle – the shape of the original U. Ottoman-era maps show the German Fountain, a gilded octagonal kiosk, at the northern tip of the old racecourse. This fountain, built in 1901 for Kaiser Wilhelm II’s visit, stands on what was once the site of the Kathisma. An inscription on the fountain even mentions “At Meydanı.” Its elegant neo-Byzantine design stands today beside the tram line, a modern addition but one that has itself become a landmark of the Hippodrome’s legacy.

For those who seek the ghost of the chariot track itself, one approach is to imagine drawing a line from the northern fountain to the southern end (near the tram loop). You will find yourself almost exactly 450 meters along the axis that would have carried the racing laps. Walking that distance, one passes between the still-standing obelisks and serpent column. Across the way (near the Blue Mosque) is a curb marking where the grandstand once began. For those inclined, tourists sell cloth banners in blue and green – a nod to the once-potent factions – for photo-ops. In this way, modern visitors can engage the past: by standing on the same turf, touching the stones, and envisioning the roar of a Hippodrome crowd.

The German Fountain: A Modern Addition with its Own History

Opposite the Blue Mosque on the former Hippodrome grounds is the German Fountain. Although built 1,600 years later, it has joined the Hippodrome’s story. This gilded gazebo was a gift from Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany, erected in 1901 to commemorate his visit in 1898. It has eight marble columns supporting a domed canopy adorned with golden mosaics and the German and Ottoman coats of arms.

As the northern terminus of the old racecourse, the German Fountain sits near where the Kathisma would have been. Its site may even have been the imperial palace lodge in Byzantium, or perhaps the site of the northern Carceres (there is some debate). It now draws a steady trickle of tourists who sip the bubbler water beneath its dome. Though unrelated to the Hippodrome’s ancient function, the fountain now shadows it – a twist of history linking Sultanahmet Square to a pan-European past.

Tracing the Outline: Finding the Ghost of the Hippodrome

No walls or seats remain above the surface, but several clues mark the Hippodrome’s plan. Look for the two obelisks and the serpent column: they stand roughly in a straight line that once was the spina. The northern end (where today’s tram stops at Sultanahmet) aligns with the northern goal line of the circus. South of the Blue Mosque is where the sphendone would have curved around; indeed, one can find fragments of ancient marble on the sidewalk there. In the museum under the İbrahim Pasha palace (the Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum) are several excavation finds – capitals and column bases – that once lay at the Hippodrome’s sidelines.

In practical terms, visitors can walk the course mentally: start at the German Fountain (north end), proceed 400–450 meters south, and end near where the Four Seasons Hotel now stands (just north of the tram loop), which is near the old sphendone. In between stands the Obelisk of Theodosius and the Serpent Column at roughly one-third the distance. Beyond the physical outline, museums in Istanbul preserve tokens of the Hippodrome’s fame: the bases of Porphyrius’s statues (now in the Archaeological Museum), and scores of small artifacts found in the courtyard excavations.

Thus the Hippodrome of Constantinople still exists, in fragments and in memory. One can step off a tram and, before admiring the Blue Mosque, glance at the spina obelisks and imagine them encircled by a cheering crowd. The site is a crossroads of history: a Roman racecourse, a Byzantine forum, an Ottoman square, and today a global tourist hotspot. Each visitor charts a course through these layers, literally following the horseshoes of antiquity.

The Enduring Legacy: Why Was the Hippodrome So Important?

What, then, made the Hippodrome so vital to an empire – and why should modern readers care? Its importance can be summed up in a few themes.

First, the Hippodrome mirrored Byzantine society. It displayed in one place the empire’s complex social mix: emperors and commoners, nobles and slaves, Christians and pagans. Even the spectacle (the chariot race) had pre-Christian origins, yet played a role in Christian Byzantium’s rituals. The crowd’s composition – cheering supporters of rival teams – reflected the vibrancy and volatility of the city. In one sense it was a barometer of public sentiment, where class and religious tensions could play out under the guise of sport.

Second, it was political theatre. Emperors connected with the people there, and people felt they could confront emperors there. The late historian John Norwich remarked that no emperor could claim “height of imperial arrogance” after surviving a shout of “Nika” from the Hippodrome crowd. The emperor’s presence in the Hippodrome – visible, but protected – was a powerful symbol of autocracy balanced by public acclamation. The line between worship and revolt was thin in that arena.

Third, the Hippodrome set a template for other cities. Byzantine emperors founded circuses or racecourses at other provincial capitals (e.g. in Thessaloniki) in its image, as a way to civilize and control them. It also influenced the design of later public spaces: the very idea of a grand, open forum where ruler and ruled could meet owes something to the Hippodrome’s precedent.

Finally, the Hippodrome’s legacy endures in Istanbul’s identity. Modern Istanbul grew up right around it. Sultanahmet Square is one of the city’s most important hubs; tourists walk the Hippodrome’s ground everyday, even if they don’t know it. The ancient monuments on site (the obelisks, the fountain) are among Istanbul’s most photographed attractions. The story of the Hippodrome is woven into the narrative of the city – from imperial capital to Ottoman imperial seat to global metropolis.

In summary, the Hippodrome was more than bricks and statues. It was an idea: the idea that public life could be enacted in a single physical space. Its stories – chariot chases, palace intrigues, bloody revolts – continue to captivate. It reminds us how a place of play can also be a place of power, and how an empire’s soul might be glimpsed in the echo of hoofbeats around an arena.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

What is the Hippodrome of Constantinople called now?
Today it is Sultanahmet Square (Turkish Sultanahmet Meydanı). In Ottoman times it was known as At Meydanı (“Horse Square”). Locals may also refer to it simply as Sultanahmet or At Meydanı.

Does the Hippodrome of Constantinople still exist?
The structure no longer stands, but its footprint is preserved as a square in Istanbul. Three ancient monuments from its center still stand (see below). Archaeological excavations have revealed parts of its seats and walls beneath the park. Visitors can walk the length of Sultanahmet Square and trace the former U‑shape of the arena.

What was the main event at the Hippodrome?
Chariot racing was the main event. Large-scale race festivals, often tied to religious or imperial celebrations, were held there. Other events (parades, executions, games, ceremonies) occurred only as secondary uses.

Who destroyed the Hippodrome?
No single person knocked it down, but it fell out of use after the Fourth Crusade (1204). Crusaders looted its artworks and statues. The building itself was gradually dismantled over time as materials were reused. By the Ottoman era it was essentially a ruin used as a square and quarry.

How many people could the Hippodrome hold?
Sources vary. Medieval codices claim up to 100,000 people, but modern estimates are generally 30,000–60,000. The arena was comparable to Rome’s Colosseum (which held ~50,000).

What were the Blues and the Greens?
They were two of the four racing factions of Constantinople (the others being Reds and Whites). By the 6th century only the Blues (Venetoi) and Greens (Prasinoi) remained as powerful. They functioned like rival sports teams – but with fan clubs that had social, political and even religious influence. Their uniforms were blue and green, hence the names.

What are the three main monuments still in the Hippodrome?
The three survivals on Sultanahmet Square are the Egyptian Obelisk of Theodosius (at the south-central spina), the Serpent Column (with its entwined snakes, at mid-spina), and the Walled Obelisk (to the north). These once stood along the spina.

Was the Hippodrome of Constantinople bigger than the Roman Colosseum?
In one dimension, yes. The Hippodrome’s track length (~400–450 m) far exceeds the 189 m length of the Colosseum. It was narrower (100–130 m), however, so overall area is hard to compare. In seating capacity the Hippodrome likely could hold as many or more spectators (modern estimates 30–60k) as the Colosseum (~50k).

What were the Nika Riots about?
In January 532 CE, tensions in Constantinople boiled over. Blues and Greens – who usually fought separately – united in protest against Emperor Justinian I over taxes and the refusal to pardon arrested faction members. They shouted “Nika!” (“Conquer!”) in the Hippodrome, setting off five days of rebellion. After much destruction, Justinian’s generals brutally suppressed the revolt, killing some 30,000 people in the Hippodrome. The riot largely stemmed from social grievances but erupted in the arena due to the factions’ involvement.

Can you visit the Hippodrome today?
Yes. Sultanahmet Square is open to the public. Visitors can walk among the monolithic relics: stand at the Obelisk of Theodosius, touch the Serpent Column’s coils, and see the Walled Obelisk. These are all freely accessible. There are plaques explaining each. To truly imagine the Hippodrome, one should walk its outline – about 450 meters long – by going from the German Fountain at the north down past these monuments to the tram loop at the south end.

Where did the bronze horses from the Hippodrome end up?
Those famed four gilded horses were taken by Crusaders in 1204. They were later installed on the façade of St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice. They can be seen on the basilica today, looking down from its loggia. Thus, one of the most iconic images of Venice is actually a relic of Constantinople’s Hippodrome.

What is the story of the Serpent Column?
The Serpent Column was forged from Persian spoil after the Battle of Plataea (479 BC). It originally stood at Delphi. Constantine moved it to the Hippodrome’s spina as a trophy of ancient Greek victory. In 1453 it survived the conquest, but in 1702 the three bronze serpent heads were removed (one by legend done by a drunken diplomat). Today only the bronze entwined bodies remain in Sultanahmet Square, their heads lost to history (one head is in the Istanbul museum).

What monuments can you see at the Hippodrome today?
As above: the Obelisk of Theodosius, the Serpent Column base, and the Walled Obelisk. Additionally, you will see the modern German Fountain (built 1901), but that is a separate memorial. All other original sculptures (like the bronze horses or lion statues) are gone.

Was the Hippodrome bigger than the Colosseum?
See Was the Hippodrome bigger than the Colosseum? above. In length it was much longer; in capacity, roughly similar or greater according to some measures. However, their shapes and purposes differed (one oval amphitheatre vs. one long track).

What is the layout of Sultanahmet Square now?
The current square is roughly an oblong about 450×130 meters. The north end has the German Fountain. In the middle of the square are the Byzantine obelisks and Serpent Column. The south end is open (near the tram stop) where the sphendone would have curved. Traces of ancient paving can be found under certain areas, and tree lines follow some of the old boundaries, but mainly one must mentally overlay the ancient plan on the modern open space.

What eventually happened to the Hippodrome?
After the 4th Crusade, it lost its decorations and fell into disuse. Under Ottoman rule it became a public square and was gradually stripped of materials. Over centuries it was built over or quarried for stone. It never reappeared intact. Only archaeological excavation and the three remaining monuments ensure its story is not entirely lost.

Why was the Hippodrome so important?
It was the center of public life in Constantinople – socially, culturally and politically. It functioned as an entertainment complex, a political forum and a symbol of imperial power. No other building in the city had as broad an impact on daily life or as much mass appeal. In essence, it was to Byzantium what Times Square is to New York or the Coliseum to Rome: an amphitheatre of the people.