Part 7 (1/2)
The archdeacon, muttering softly to himself and shaking his head, slowly followed the three Asdings.
CHAPTER X
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 s.p.a.ce 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 n.o.ble trees had been first planted and fostered by human hands, then had increased through the peerless fertility of nature: the plane-tree, with its l.u.s.trous 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 gra.s.s 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 s.p.a.ces 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 G.o.ddess and of Eros (Cupid) appeared most frequently in the wide grounds, though Christian zeal had shattered the heads, b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 G.o.ds 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 s.p.a.cious 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 pa.s.sing 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.
CHAPTER XI
The sultry heat of an African summer day still brooded over the whole grove, although the sun had long since sunk into the sea, and the brief twilight had pa.s.sed into the darkness of night. But the full moon was already rising above the palm-trees, pouring her magical light over trees, bushes, meadows, and water; over the marble statues which gleamed fantastically out of the darkest, blackish-green ma.s.ses of shrubbery; and over the buildings, which were princ.i.p.ally of white or light-colored stone.
In the more distant portions of the grove Diana's soft silvery light ruled alone, and here deep, chaste silence reigned, interrupted only here and there by the note of some night bird. But near the gate, in the two great main buildings, and on the turf and in the gardens surrounding them, the noisy uproar of many thousands filled the air.
All the instruments known at the time were playing discordantly, drowning one another. Cries of pleasure, drunkenness, even rage and angry conflict, were heard in the Roman, the Greek, the Moorish, and especially the Vandal tongue; for perhaps the largest and certainly the noisiest ”guests of the grove,” as the companions in these pleasures called themselves, belonged to the race of conquerors, who here gave vent to all their longing and capacity for pleasure.
Two men, wearing the German costume, were walking down the broad street to the Circus. The dress was conspicuous here, for nearly all the Vandals, except the royal family, had either exchanged the German garb, nay, even the German weapons, for Roman ones, or for convenience, effeminacy, love of finery, adopted one or another article of Roman attire. These two men, however, had German cloaks, helmets, and weapons.
”What frantic shouts! What pus.h.i.+ng and crowding!” said the elder, a man of middle height, whose shrewd, keen eyes were closely scanning everything that was pa.s.sing around him.
”And it is not the Romans who shout and roar most wildly and frenziedly, but our own dear cousins,” replied the other.
”Was I not right, friend Theudigesel? Here, among the people themselves, we shall learn more, obtain better information, in a single night, than if we exchanged letters with this book-learned King for many months.”
”What we see here with our own eyes is almost incredible!”
Just at that moment loud cries reached their ears from the gate behind them. Two negroes, naked except for an ap.r.o.n of peac.o.c.k feathers about their loins, were swinging gold staves around their woolly heads, evidently trying to force a pa.s.sage for a train behind them.
”Make way,” they shouted constantly; ”make way for the n.o.ble, Modigesel.”
But they could not succeed in breaking through the crowd; their calls only attracted more curious spectators. So the eight Moors behind, who were clad, or rather _un_clad, in the same way, were compelled to set down their swaying burden, a richly gilded, half open litter. Its back was made of narrow purple cus.h.i.+ons, framed and supported by ivory rods; white ostrich feathers and the red plumage of the flamingo nodded from the k.n.o.bs of the ivory.