DJEMILA THE DESOLATE
If Roman ruins are of interest to the traveler there is a second
edition of Timgad, to my mind finer and more complete than the
subject of the last chapter, but unfortunately not on any main road.
I refer to the town of Cuicul, now called Djemila, situated on the
barren hills to the northeast of Sétif. There are two means of
access: from Algiers via Sétif, or from Constantine via the road
to Djidjelli, described in the next chapter.
From Sétif the main road to Constantine is followed for thirty
kilometers to Saint Arnaud, where one turns sharp left and begins
climbing into a rolling country of cereals sparsely cultivated until,
after some thirty more kilometers of winding roads, one reaches
Djemila. The other route branches out of the Constantine-Djidjelli
road at Zeraîa, sixty-five kilometers from Constantine, and
soon begins climbing up into the rolling country described above,
rejoining the Sétif approach some fifty kilometers farther on,
and ten from Djemila.
The first aspect of the ruins is certainly more impressive than that
of Timgad. The road has been winding along the side of a steep hill,
high up through a country so harsh and desolate that one looks about
apprehensively as if the dead themselves guarded the bare slopes,
watching over the scenes of their great triumphs.
Then suddenly at a bend in this sad road the eye suddenly
distinguishes, on a kind of promontory far below, something which
at first looks like a great graveyard. Then gradually, as one
watches, the stones detach themselves from the gray surroundings,
graceful pillars rise up, triumphal arches, the massive walls of
a temple. . . .
We are looking down on what was once one of the most prosperous
cities of that dead empire which ruled Algeria as no one since has
ruled it. The road winds down toward the miniature village outside
the site of the ancient city. The Compagnie Transatlantique has,
as usual, a comfortable hotel, in fact it is the only hotel, and if
the traveler ventures to this lonely spot out of the tourist season
he will have to carry his own food and sleep out-of-doors. This is,
as a matter of fact, quite feasible, as during the summer months
the heat of Djemila is intense.
The excavation of Djemila has been carried out with much more care
and system than that of the other Roman cities in Algeria; this
is chiefly due to the intelligent interest taken in the place by
its curator, the Comtesse de Crésolles. This charming lady lives
in a comfortable house overlooking the ruins, and if the visitor
has the good fortune to make her acquaintance he will find in her
a fund of information about the excavations, and an untiring guide.
Djemila can be seen in a morning, but a week would seem more like
the period required really to study the ruins properly. The first
thing that strikes one on entering the precincts of the ruins is
why this town was built on a spur so far below the mountains which
tower menacingly above. The reason is quite clear. At the end of
the first century, when the city was founded, the main roads ran
along the bottom of the valleys, and it was therefore necessary to
plan the military centers at some point where they not only formed a
guard over the long arteries of civilization, but also a stage for
the caravans as they passed up and down from Constantine and from
the coast. But quite apart from the military side of the question,
Djemila under the Romans was one of the great cereal centers of the
empire and within its walls the grain was brought to be despatched
to the far-flung limits of the mighty empire.
The first portion of the town to be visited is the Christian
quarter. Begun in the third century it rapidly grew in importance
and was undoubtedly the see of a bishop. The great basilica of
Cresconius was built by this Christian bishop as a mausoleum for
his predecessors. There are two other churches excavated near this
cathedral, and there are no doubt other important buildings still
under the earth.
The most interesting edifice, perhaps the most interesting in all
the Roman remains on account of its state of preservation, is the
baptistery. To the reader used to well-preserved churches and art
museums in Europe it is difficult to convey the real impression
created on the mind on entering the low doorway of this first
evidence of Christianity in this part of the world: outside, the
desolation of the barren hills and the sadness of the gray ruins;
inside, the fresh color of mosaics, stuccoed niches, graceful
pillars. A gallery runs round the actual place of immersion,
lined with hollowed-out seats, reminding one of the stalls in some
university chapel in England. Rich gold mosaics stud the walls;
on the floor all kinds of intricate designs in rich colors, which
make one realize the trouble taken by that dead race to beautify
all that was their work.
At each end of the baptistery, two doors lead into the center
portion where the converts were christened. The floor is carpeted
with delicately colored pictures of fishes and seashells; above,
a canopy carved out of one block of solid stone rests on four
pillars; on the floor of the primitive font a mosaic inscription
in Latin reads:
“A day will come when all people will have been baptized.”
It is with a feeling of reverence that one quits this jewel in the
midst of the ruins.
It seems useless to describe the other edifices in detail; they are
like all Roman ruins, and require the atmosphere of loneliness to
produce their effect. A few words will suffice:
The theater is in about the same state of preservation as at
Timgad. It is, however, being gradually restored, and will soon be
in its original state. Only the other day (1926) a company of the
Comedie Française gave a performance of _Œdipus Rex_ on its stage.
Leaving the theater it is advised to take the path leading to
the northwestern extremity of the ruins, passing the baths of the
capitol and various private houses. Turning to the left, one enters
the capitol which formed the northern extremity of the old forum.
The temple of Jupiter, with its six columns forty-two feet high,
rose majestically above the other buildings; a colossal statue was
in the center. Now only two bases of columns can be seen in place,
the remains of others lie about the steps and before the altar
of sacrifice.
The ruts of the chariot wheels are less distinct in the Cardo Maximus
here than at Timgad. The drain down the center is clearly visible.
The new forum is very impressive. On the right a triumphal arch
seems to leap from the earth almost intact in the middle of the
ruins. An inscription dated 216 tells that it was raised in honor of
Caracalla, conqueror of many nations. On the other side of the open
space stands a great temple. Broad steps lead up to the lofty pillars
supporting the remains of a roof; the walls, though shorn of their
marble facings, are almost intact. Another inscription states that
the temple is in honor of the family of the Emperor Septimus Severus
and was erected in the year 229 by the Republic of Cuicul. From
the entrance a fine view can be had of the original city.
The visit has been rapidly accomplished, and only the great
baths remain to be seen on our way to the hotel. As usual they are
magnificent in all their luxury; nothing seems to have been omitted
by these Romans in their far-away exile to make their homes as like
as possible what they had left in the northern country.
It rather reminds one of the Briton who, in all his arrogance,
carries his clubs, and his drinks, and his games into whatever
distant corner of the Empire he settles himself. To the Roman
nothing was good which was not from Rome. It is rather the same
with us, and I suppose it will always be so. Machinery makes life
more complicated, but it does not change the mentality of mankind.
There is a good museum near the hotel where the excavators have
collected the best things found in the ruins. Apart from the usual
implements of daily life, seen in greater profusion at Timgad, there
are some very fine mosaics. It would take too long to describe them,
but to those interested the museum is well worth a visit, and when
one looks upon those lovely designs, so intricate, so artistic, one
wonders why the Arab and the Algerian of to-day does not copy his
floors from these pictures in stone instead of plastering everything
with hideous modern flags of impossible colors. And yet even the
beauties of those Roman cities of the past do not bear comparison
with the monuments of the mother country.
There is something coarse, unoriginal in them, which at first
leaves one wondering, until one suddenly realizes that one is in
the presence of the Roman colonists, the expatriated wanderer who
set out to seek his fortune overseas, the retired soldier or the
rich grain merchant. He tried to copy what he had at home; he did
better than would a present-day colonist from England or France,
but it was not the real thing.
Still, the dead cities of that great empire are of vast interest
and, to those who like to live in the past, it is a joy to wander
through the silent streets and realize how great and civilized this
colony once was, and how still greater the desolation and misery
caused by the advent of the Arab.
From Djemila the traveler can either return to Algiers direct
or continue the voyage through Constantine, or, if time presses,
he can leave out Constantine and make direct for Djidjelli.
For the moment we must turn our attention to the third city
of Algeria, the first city of Christianity under the Emperor
Constantine.