The "lower city" of Carthage extended northward to the harbor, westward
to the suburb of Aklas, the Numidian, and eastward to the Tripolitan
suburb. Directly beyond its southern gate, covering a space more than
two leagues long and a league wide, lay the oft-mentioned "Grove of
Venus" or "Grove of the Holy Virgin." From the most ancient pagan times
this grove was the scene of the sumptuous, sensual revels which were
proverbial throughout the Roman Empire. "African" was the word used to
express the acme of such orgies.
The whole coast of the bay in this neighborhood, kept moist by the damp
sea-air, had originally been covered with dense woods. The larger
portion had long since yielded to the growth of the city; but, by the
Emperor's order, a considerable part was retained and transformed into
a magnificent park, adorned with all the skill and the lavish
expenditure which characterized the time of the Caesars.
The main portion of this grove consisted of date palms. These were
introduced by the Phoenicians. The palm, say the Arabs, gladly sets her
feet as queen of the desert into damp sand, but lifts her head into the
glow of the sun. It thrived magnificently here, and in centuries of
growth the slender columns of the trunks attained a height of fifty
feet; no sunbeam could penetrate vertically through the roof of
drooping leaves of those thick crowns, which rustled and nodded
dreamily in the wind, wooing, inviting to sleep, to unresisting
indolence, to drowsy thoughts.
But they stood sufficiently far apart to allow the light and air to
enter from the sides and to permit smaller trees (dwarf palms), bushes,
and flowers to grow luxuriantly beneath the shelter of the lofty
crowns. Besides the palms, other noble trees had been first planted and
fostered by human hands, then had increased through the peerless
fertility of nature: the plane-tree, with its lustrous light bark; the
pine, the cypress, and the laurel; the olive, which loves the salt
breath of the sea; the pomegranate, so naturalized here that its fruit
was called "the Carthaginian apple"; while figs, citrus-trees,
apricots, peaches, almonds, chestnuts, pistachios, terebinths,
oleanders, and myrtles,--sometimes as large trees, sometimes as
shrubs,--formed, as it were, the undergrowth of the glorious palm
forest.
And the skill in gardening of the Roman imperial days, which has
scarcely been equalled since, aided by irrigation from the immense
aqueducts, had created here, on the edge of the desert, marvels of
beauty. "Desert" was a misnomer; the real desert lay much farther in
the interior. First there was a thick luxuriant green turf, which, even
in the hottest days of the year, had hardly a single sunburnt patch.
The wind had borne the flower-seeds from the numerous beds, and now
everywhere amid the grass blossoms shone in the vivid, glowing hues
with which the African sun loves to paint.
The parterres of flowers which were scattered through the entire grove
suffered, it is true, from a certain monotony. The variety that now
adorns our gardens was absent: the rose, the narcissus, the violet, and
the anemone stood almost alone; but these appeared in countless
varieties, in colors artificially produced, and were often made to
blossom before or after their regular season.
In this world of trees, bushes, and flowers the lavishness of the
emperors (who had formerly often resided here), the munificence of the
governors, and still more the endowments of wealthy citizens of
Carthage had erected an immense number of buildings of every variety.
For centuries patriotism, a certain sense of honor, and often vanity,
boastfulness, and a desire to perpetuate a name, had induced wealthy
citizens to keep themselves in remembrance by erecting structures for
the public benefit, laying out pleasure-grounds, and putting up
monuments. This local patriotism of the former citizens, both in its
praiseworthy and its petty motives, had by no means died out. Solemn
tombs separated by very narrow spaces lined both sides of the broad
Street of Legions, which ran straight through the grove from north to
south. Besides these there were buildings of every description, and
also baths, ponds, little lakes with waterworks, marble quays, and
dainty harbors for the light pleasure-boats, circus buildings,
amphitheatres, stages, stadia for athletic sports, hippodromes, open
colonnades, temples with all their numerous and extensive outbuildings
scattered everywhere through the grounds of the whole park.
The grove had originally been dedicated to Aphrodite (Venus), therefore
statues of this goddess and of Eros (Cupid) appeared most frequently in
the wide grounds, though Christian zeal had shattered the heads,
breasts, and noses of many such figures and broken the bow of many a
Cupid. Since the reign of Constantine, most of the pagan temples had
been converted into Christian oratories and churches, but by no means
all; and those that had been withdrawn from the service of the pagan
religion and not used for the Christian one had now for two centuries,
with their special gardens, arbors, and grottoes, been the scenes of
much vice, gambling, drunkenness, and matters even worse. The gods had
been driven out; the demons had entered.
Among more than a hundred buildings in the grove, two near the Southern
Gate of the city were specially conspicuous: the Old Circus and the
Amphitheatre of Theodosius.
The Old Circus had been erected in the period of the greatest
prosperity of Carthage, the whole spacious structure, with its eighty
thousand seats, was planned to accommodate its great population. Now
most of the rows stood empty; many of the Roman families, since the
Vandal conquest, had moved away, been driven forth, exiled. The rich
bronze ornaments of numerous single seats, rows, and boxes had been
broken off. This was done not by the Vandals, who did not concern
themselves about such trifles, but by the Roman inhabitants of the city
and by the neighboring peasants; they even wrenched off and carried
away the marble blocks from the buildings in the grove. The granite
lower story, a double row of arches, supported the rows of marble
seats, which rose from within like an amphitheatre. Outside, the Circus
was surrounded by numerous entrances and outside staircases, besides
niches occupied as shops, especially workshops, cookshops, taverns, and
fruit booths. Here, by night and day, many evil-minded people were
always lounging; from the larger ones, hidden by curtains from the eyes
of the passing throng, cymbals and drums clashed, in token that,
within, Syrian and Egyptian girls were performing their voluptuous
dances for a few copper coins. South of the Circus was a large lake,
fed with sea-water from the "Stagnum," whose whole contents could be
turned into the amphitheatre directly adjoining it.