TIMGAD
“Leaving Biskra is like dying—a thing we must all get through somehow,”
an American lady wailed, partly because she “just hated going,” but
still more because of her fate at being condemned to get up at the
unearthly hour of 5 A.M. to catch the first train.
This used to be the only train in the day, but now matters have so far
progressed that on three days in the week a new one has been added as
far as Batna, which saves much tribulation on the part of those who wish
to see Timgad and cannot bear beginning their day with the sun. Dawn,
however, is as beautiful as sunset, so that it is perhaps as well even
for the lazy to be obliged to see it sometimes.
The four or five hours on the backward journey seem long. The keenness
of excitement is wanting; there are only the glimpse of El Kantara, and
some smiling greetings as the train passes through, to help pass the
time. In the afternoon it soon gets dark, and the train goes crawling on
slowly as if groping its way.
It is not possible to get up much enthusiasm until Batna is reached, for
that is only a halting-place from which the start will be made next day
to the ruins of the City of Timgad. Batna itself is nothing more than a
clean little town with wide streets and low houses, an important
military centre, with a large garrison and barracks, which are perhaps
the most striking buildings in the place. There is no _quartier
indigène_; little or nothing to amuse or interest.
In consequence perhaps of this it is quite usual to arrive by the early
train, lunch at the station, then drive straight out—a matter of three
hours, “do” the ruins with a rush, and return in the dark. But there is
too much to see and study for this to be satisfactory, except for those
who do not really care for antiquities at all. It is certainly better to
put up at Timgad for a night or two, and make the best of the inn,
which, though rough, is new and perfectly clean, and that is more than
can be said for the more pretentious one at Batna.
It has always been our lot to arrive at Batna during a spell of cold
weather, of the sort that is a positive surprise to those who expect
continual warmth in the far South. The cold is so great that it is
almost a penance to drive at all, and this even as late as the end of
March.
As the start has to be made fairly early, about eight o’clock, it is
rather chilly work. However, the situation is thoroughly understood and
prepared for. Foot-warmers, so scalding that they are a comfort for the
three hours, and any amount of rugs are provided. Every one looks as if
starting for a sleigh drive, mere bundles as they are of cloaks and
furs, their faces covered with shawls, in a fashion which partakes of
both the African and the Arctic.
This is our experience, whilst others, both before and after, felt the
heat to an equally intense degree, for there is no shelter, when once
the town is left behind, from either cold winds or broiling sun. Nothing
is to be seen on either side but the wide, undulating plains, cultivated
more or less at first, but later on growing wilder and wilder.
Our last visit was after a heavy snowfall, the countryside flooded with
sunshine, sky and cloud, mountain and plain, dazzlingly and intolerably
bright. The snow, though only a couple of inches deep on the road, was
twice that number of feet in the drifts; the sheep and the Arab
shepherds looking thoroughly out of place as well as miserable, their
woollen garments and fleeces forming a brown and dingy contrast to the
pure whiteness. As a snow landscape the scene was charming, the
mountains of the Aures gaining much in dignity from their white robes.
As a rule it must be owned that the drive is a trifle monotonous,
notwithstanding the space and width and the sense of air and freedom. At
first the soldiers exercising their horses, and the groups of Arabs
coming in to town to do their marketing, provide some interest. Then
Lambessa becomes visible, the Prætorium rising like a castle from
amongst the trees. The modern village consists of barracks and a few
houses and cafés, but the ruins of the ancient Lambæsis are scattered
far and wide. Formerly, it seems to have been a military station, the
headquarters of the third Augustan Legion. Perhaps this is the reason
that the ruins have not much artistic value, with the exception of the
peculiar massive structure called the Prætorium, which stands square and
upright, in solitary dignity, amongst ruins and fallen columns on the
bare paved square that was once the Forum.
Glimpses of walls and triumphal arches show among the olives and fruit
trees of the farms, as the long, curving road sweeps up the hill out of
the valley and on to the wold. The heat of the sun melts the snow so
rapidly that the rich dark browns of the soil begin to make a restful
contrast with the prevailing whiteness. For miles and miles the horses
trot quietly on, passing only one or two houses and a few Bedawin tents
on the way, then suddenly in the distance, set among the hills, under a
great range of snow peaks, are seen two houses, some ruined pillars, and
an arch. Timgad at last!
Desolation itself: not a tree, hardly a touch of green, where once all
was forest; nothing but the inn, plain and uninteresting as a house from
a child’s Noah’s Ark! the group of buildings and shanties which form the
Museum, and a dwelling for the _Directeur_ who superintends the
excavations.
The ancient city of Tamugadi, or Thamagas, called also Thanutada by
Ptolemy, was finely situated on rising ground with a wide outlook over
the now barren wold, whose browns and reds, blending with the soft blues
and purples of the hills, make a beautiful background to the pale
gleaming of the slender pillars still left upright. The town was never
very large, but was important and much mentioned in history. There are
inscriptions in the Forum which tell of the 30th Legion Ulpia, and of
the victories of Trajan over the Parthians.
[Illustration: THE ARCH OF TRAJAN, TIMGAD]
The foundation stone was laid by Lucius Munatius Gallus in the reign of
Trajan A.D. 100. The building was rapidly carried out according to a
definite prearranged plan, and shows plainly that the Romans would not
tolerate any temporary buildings or poor craftsmen even in their most
distant colonies, but that they required both solid workmanship and a
certain measure of magnificence in all that they undertook. The city was
built thirty-six years after the great fire in Rome in the days of Nero.
The consequences of that fire, and of the new ideas for avoiding future
conflagrations mentioned by Tacitus, were here carried into effect by
building all the more considerable houses in a detached form with a
clear space all round them. This is one of the remarkable differences
between Timgad and its rival Pompeii. Its later history is full of sad
tales of religious disputes and much fighting in the fourth century. The
head of the Donatists, Bishop Optatus, who persecuted the orthodox with
great cruelty, joined Count Gildon (under whose sway Africa trembled for
ten years) in his revolt against the Emperor Honorius. They were both
overthrown, the Bishop was taken prisoner, and suffered in his turn,
ending his days in prison. St. Augustine often alludes to Count Gildon
and his terrible doings.
In A.D. 535 the city was already in ruins, but later on the citadel was
restored, and at the time of the Arab invasion was evidently in
Christian hands, for the ruins of a church built in A.D. 646 still
remain. The end of the city came with the close of the seventh century,
when it must have been taken by force, sacked, and burned, as so many of
the buildings and even the soil show traces of fire.
However, the attraction of Timgad does not lie so much in its history as
in the beauty of the ruins that remain, and in the interest of comparing
with Pompeii another and larger city—a city more important and as
perfectly preserved, and now, thanks to the excavations, spread open
like a book.
Not that the excavations are at all complete even now, for nearly
two-thirds of the city are still untouched, though the work was begun as
long ago as 1880, and the French Government allows a considerable sum,
£1500 to £2000, yearly for the purpose. Under the circumstances it is
strange that these, the finest ruins in Algeria, should have been almost
unknown until quite recently. The older travellers, Bruce and Shaw,
wrote much on the subject, and the former left some splendid drawings of
the ruins. Most modern writers, however, up to 1890, content themselves
with a visit to the comparatively unimportant Lambessa, and ignore
Timgad altogether.
The French even had so little notion of its existence, that an old
French General told us that when he was quartered at Batna some thirty
years ago no one had ever heard of the ruins, and that he himself had
noticed nothing in his rides, though he had scoured the country for
miles round. His interest and excitement now showed that this was not
the result of indifference to things antique, but simply want of
knowledge. The odd part of the whole affair is that the triumphal arch
must always have been a conspicuous object, and not easily overlooked
like the half-buried columns which scarcely rise above the ground on the
unexcavated portions of the hillside.
The pride of the place is that it is not a “lath and plaster” city of
pleasure, like Pompeii, but a solid, business-like town, built of stone
and marble, where nothing inferior to good brick-work has been found. On
the other hand, the colonists of North Africa could not be expected to
rival the luxurious citizens of Pompeii in their collection of gems and
works of art, exquisite bronzes and sculpture, and delicate frescoes.
The fate of the two cities was so different, that even supposing Timgad
to have possessed as rich a store of treasures, it was not possible for
many to remain in the ruins after much fighting and looting.
Consequently the statues found are not of the highest order, and the
Museum does not contain many wonders. In mosaics alone it is rich: a
great many have been found in perfect preservation and very fine. They
consist not only of geometric patterns, but of large and important
subject-pieces with colossal figures, and each year more and finer
mosaics are added to the collection. When found, they are carefully
taken up and placed under shelter in the Museum buildings to save them
from the spoiler.
The main entrance is through a gate in a rough paling, but this fence is
only a farce, put there to guide tourists to the Museum, as it does not
extend round the ruins, which are quite unprotected on the further side.
Opposite the Museum stand the ruins of a basilica, and a few steps
farther up the well-paved street are the graceful columns of the
so-called _Salle de reunion_, where, amongst many Roman capitals lying
on the ground, is one of Byzantine origin.
This street ascends to the Forum, where it is crossed by another, the
main thoroughfare, the _via Decumanus Maximus_, leading to the Arch of
Trajan and the market. Evidently the traffic here was far heavier than
in other parts of the city, as the ruts in the pavement are so deeply
worn. There are no stepping-stones as at Pompeii, but the paving of all
the streets is still in such good condition that carriages can be driven
through them all.
The water-supply and the many fountains, as well as the whole system of
drainage, are very elaborate and carefully planned. The sewers are
indeed so large that it is possible to walk through them, and in many
cases without even bending the head.
The spacious and stately Forum seems to have been surrounded by a
colonnade double towards the _via Decumanus Maximus_, with a temple at
one end. Many of the pillars are still standing, and others have been
replaced on their ancient bases. The long distance between the columns,
especially on the east and south sides, show clearly that the
architraves that surmounted them were of wood. The Forum was paved with
great flagstones, but a large portion is now missing. Well-preserved and
perfect inscriptions are set up round the Forum in front of the pillars.
[Illustration: THE FORUM, TIMGAD]
The theatre was a fine one, capable of holding in its seats, porticoes,
and galleries some 4000 spectators. It is in good preservation, but not
peculiar in any way.
One of the best views is from the hill just above the Auditorium. The
city unfolds itself, disclosing all the intricacies of its former
life—the wide open space of the Forum, the great temples and baths, the
fine arch, some handsome houses, the narrow streets, and the small
dwellings huddled together in the poor quarters. As at Pompeii, there is
the curious effect of a town with the upper portion sliced off by a
giant’s hand; but here it is not so marked, for many of the buildings
have escaped more or less—some even are untouched, and the pillars are
often erect and complete, several having been replaced during the
excavations.
Timgad has some unusual features. In a house between the Forum and the
theatre is an elegant atrium with ten columns, having a central fountain
or well surrounded at some little distance by semicircular flower-boxes
of marble, charming in design, and said to be unique. The market, again,
is quite unusual, and has been described as an “archæological
revelation,” no such ancient municipal mart being known in Africa. It
lies beyond the Arch of Trajan, and the entrance was through a low
portal, the Chalcidicum. The market was of a fair size, and, like the
Forum, well paved—a sort of colonnade running all round, with square
cells between the columns. These cells or stalls had counters formed by
thick slabs of stone. To enter the shop the owner had to stoop under the
counter—an arrangement that is copied in most Oriental bazaars to this
day. The place is so perfect that it does not require much thought to
see how well arranged and picturesque this old-world market-place must
once have been. And to assist in the process, dishes, vases, amphoræ,
and even balances have been found on the spot. Flour-mills of an
unwonted form are found in many houses. There are numerous wine shops
but more fountains, one of particular grace having been lately dug out
in a new district beyond the market.
The baths are remarkable for their splendour and the perfection of the
arrangements for heating. They were decorated with fine mosaics in
geometric patterns, and also between the columns of the gallery with
designs of figures and animals. A good many of these mosaics are still
left in their places, but are carefully covered over with a thin layer
of soil to prevent theft or damage. On great occasions, such as the
visit of the President, this is swept away, but ordinary mortals have to
content themselves with glimpses of small portions of the pavement that
the foreman scrapes clear with his foot. There were formerly several
baths, and at one time as many as seven Christian basilicas.
[Illustration: MARKET DAY, TIMGAD]
Of the temples the most imposing was, and is, even in its ruins, that of
Jupiter Capitolinus. It stands on a hill, the highest point in the city.
Two columns with Corinthian capitals are still standing, but, to judge
by the immense quantity of debris of marbles of all colours found in the
_cella_, it must have been truly magnificent. The marble is supposed to
have been brought from Mahouna, near Guelma.
The triumphal arch, or Arch of Trajan, the finest in Africa, is almost
perfect, though slightly restored. However, much cannot have been done,
because there is scarcely any difference between its condition now and
when drawn by Bruce. The arch has three openings, and both sides are
alike. It is built of warm golden sandstone, and the beautiful fluted
Corinthian columns are of a stone so fine and white that it looks like
marble. The capitals, bases, and pilasters are of the same stone. Over
the two side gateways are niches for statues, only one of which is left.
The whole is simple in design and beautiful in form and colour, whilst
from its position it becomes the key-note of all views of the city.
In these days of her desolation and abandonment, Timgad is only
inhabited by the two or three Frenchmen who superintend the Arabs in the
work of excavation, and by the family of the innkeeper, who have not too
much to do in feeding the travellers who appear now and then in the
middle of the day for a few hours. So it is odd to awake one morning to
find the whole place alive with crowds of men, their mules and horses;
the ground in front of the inn and up to the Museum gates covered with
small tents, and all the clamour and bustle of a busy fair. The whole
scene is changed as by enchantment, and a new, vivid, noisy life
intrudes in dreams of bygone days. These Arabs, or rather Berbers, come
from far—from homes high up in the distant hills or far out on the
plains; these hills and plains which look so inhospitable and wild, but
in some parts are really beautiful and both green and fertile. There are
amongst them wild men—rough, uncivilised, and very dirty, but there are
also Sheikhs and Caïds who would look well anywhere. This weekly market
is to them a great institution and a delightful change, but Timgad seems
to look twice as solitary as before when the crowds have melted away and
the last white robe has disappeared.