A romantic find—A municipal library of the third century—A Roman Carnegie—Christian Africa—The Donatists—Genseric the Vandal—Justinian—Timgad and Pompeii.

Among the buildings unearthed at Timgad there is one which, from its nature and the fact that it is unique, or almost unique, is especially interesting, and merits particular attention. The learned world has long been aware that the Public Library, which is a comparatively recent addition to most of our own towns, was a Roman institution. The allusions of Latin authors tell us so much; there were twenty-eight public libraries at Rome in the fourth century; and we gather from inscriptions that there is nothing original about Mr. Carnegie, except the extent of his munificence. The public libraries of provincial cities were often due to the liberality of wealthy citizens, and once established they were frequently enriched by the gifts and bequests of others. By a succession of fortunate accidents, which happily illustrate the romantic side of excavation, the Public Library of Timgad has been found and identified beyond question. This fact in itself gives a very special distinction to the ruins.

In 1901, in clearing a block of buildings in the Cardo, not far from the principal gate of the Forum, the nature of which was unknown, the excavators found a broken portion of an inscription. It seemed to refer to the dedication of the building as a public institution, but threw no light on its nature. It was vaguely considered to be a school or salle de rÉunion. The mutilated inscription was as follows:—

This merely indicated that the building had been erected at a cost of 400,000 sesterces, or about £4000, as a result of a legacy of one Q. F. Ro——.

In 1904, in the course of some digging in a neighbouring house, a little to the north, a second fragment of this inscription was found. It fitted exactly to the left-hand side of the former fragment, and read as follows:—

This was very tantalizing; it did not explain the exact object of the building, but it proved that it could only be something of which the Latin name ended in the letters OTHECA. Now in the Latin language there are five such words;—pinacotheca, a picture gallery; apotheca, a wine-shop; oporotheca, a store-room for fruit; zotheca, an apartment with niches for statuary; bibliotheca, a library. Of these the only words at all applicable were the two last. Between them the usual controversy of savants arose; much could be said, and was said, on either side. From the first the advocates of the library seemed to have the best of it. They based their arguments on the nature of the building. It occupies with its dependencies a rectangular space measuring 77 by 80 feet. Its principal front, facing east, is composed of a portico in the form of a letter U sustained by twelve columns of white calcareous stone, framing a court which opens on to the street. On each side of the portico was an entrance to two partially open chambers, bounded by two side streets leading to the Cardo. Behind these was a great central hall with a room on either side of it, each having a niche at the further end. The termination of the hall was of semicircular form; on each side of it were six detached columns of white marble, corresponding to the same number of pilasters in the wall, between each side pair of which was a square recess. In the middle of the semicircle was a larger and deeper recess, which doubtless contained a statue. The advocates of the zotheca theory urged that the main purpose of the building was to be the shrine of an important statue, bequeathed by Quintianus Flavus Ro—— to his mother city. The case for a library seemed stronger and more attractive. It was suggested that the rectangular recesses were receptacles for volumes or rolls of papyrus, and that benches or steps which led up to them from the centre of the building were intended to serve as seats for readers. The detached columns were considered to have supported two upper galleries containing a second set of bookcases, while the great niche at the end was an architectural feature, doubtless containing a statue of Minerva. The head of such a statue was found in the neighbourhood. The two side rooms were held to be further store-rooms for books; one of them, having a door into the street, perhaps reserved for the use of the librarian. There are indications of recesses in their walls also. The great hall, it was observed, was exceptionally well lighted by a skylight in the vaulted roof of its semicircular portion, and therefore very suitable for reading.

The question was settled in 1906,—on the 17th of March, at five p.m.,—as M. Ballu records with exulting precision. In making an experimental hole beside the Cardo, a workman drove his pick against a fragment of inscribed stone, which proved to be the missing piece containing the first portion of the inscription. The supporters of the library theory were right. The words on the stone were as follows:—

“There is no necessity,” says M. Ballu, “to tell with what joy we received a telegram announcing this discovery. It was the consecration of our suppositions, certitude succeeding to probabilities, which had nevertheless not left much room for doubt. It was, above all, a revelation of the arrangements of those ancient Roman libraries of which so many Latin authors speak; but as to the construction of which we possessed no evidence.”

The full inscription is to the following effect:—

“Out of the funds bequeathed by Marcus Julius Quintianus Flavus Rogatianus, of senatorial memory, by his will to the colony of Thamagudi his mother city, the erection of a library has been completed at a cost of 400,000 sesterces, under the direction of the city authority.”

The name of this benefactor is otherwise unknown. The building which bears it was well built of fine materials, with marble columns, and marble veneerings to the walls, of which copious fragments have been found. Among these fragments are some of particularly fine coloured marbles which perhaps adorned the niche in which stood the statue of the presiding goddess. The pavement, which remains, is of a very finished type.

It is not possible to assign a precise date to the building, but it is considered to be of the third century. It doubtless took the place of an insula, or large private house isolated by four streets, of which other examples line the Cardo. It occupies a rather larger space than these houses; the semicircular portion of the hall extends into the back street, and on the south side the normal width of the street is reduced by it.

A somewhat fanciful calculation has been made of the number of books which the library might contain; and the figure of 6800 for the interior hall, and 16,200 for the other chambers, has been arrived at. This seems to be carrying reconstitution a little too far.

There are some to whom Timgad is the most interesting place in Algeria; to many antiquaries, and perhaps to many of that large class which is concerned one way or another about all that appertains to books, this Public Library, identified beyond all cavil by such happy fortune, will be Timgad’s most interesting building.

It may be noted that about the time of the discovery of this library, the Austrian ArchÆological Institute, in the course of excavations on the site of Ephesus, found a building in many respects similar to this one. An inscription in Greek and Latin left no doubt that it was a library. Its form is rectangular instead of semicircular, but it possesses a niche at the end for the statue of Minerva, and the walls contain similar recesses for the reception of books. It has a portico in front, but lacks the side chambers which occur at Timgad.

The interest of Timgad, and its part in illustrating history, are not exhausted by a view of those buildings of the second and third centuries which mark the period of its greatness. If in the troublous times which followed it suffered, yet it played a part in African affairs until the Arab conquest. To the understanding of its monuments some slight acquaintance with events is necessary.

During the latter part of the third century two processes were at work in Africa, the formation of great estates out of the ruin of small proprietors, and the spread of Christianity. The two were not unconnected. The new religion attracted all who were dissatisfied with the existing order. It ran like a flame through Barbary. It produced three great men: Tertullian in the second century, Cyprian in the third, and Augustine in the fourth. But the movement throughout was more political and social than religious. It was based among the Berber population rather on discontent than conviction. With the official recognition of Christianity under Constantine its attraction as a symbol of revolt disappeared. A substitute was found in schism. The curious inter-workings of finance, politics and religion have never been more fully illustrated. The misery of the cultivators under the wretched financial system of Rome has not been accorded its due weight as a factor in the most extraordinary event in history, the conversion of the Empire to Christianity.

Even under Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, the schism of the Donatists, destined to ruin Roman Africa, grew to a head. It arose from a personal dispute as to the position of a bishop named Donatus; if there were any differences on points of doctrine they were insignificant. But it plunged Africa into anarchy for centuries; it laid open the way to the invasion o£ the Vandals, and was extinguished only with Christianity itself.

Timgad was the very focus of Donatist agitation. Its bishops took a leading part; of one of them Augustine says that for ten years Africa trembled beneath his yoke. To this century perhaps belong the ruins of several Christian churches unearthed in the city. The schism was not bounded by the arguments of doctors. It extended to the pillage of estates and the sack of cities. The wild tribes of the AurÈs and other mountain districts which had never completely owned the sovereignty of Rome made common cause with the schismatics. And Roman Africa was ruined. Then came the Vandals.

The historian Gibbon, who rises to his highest flights in the consideration of Christianity and its heresies, has sketched the Donatist pretensions in immortal words: “Excluded from the civil and religious communion of mankind, they boldly excommunicated the rest of mankind. They asserted with confidence, and almost with exultation, that the apostolical succession was interrupted; that all the bishops of Europe and Asia were infected by the contagion of guilt and schism; and that the prerogatives of the catholic church were confined to the chosen portion of the African believers, who alone had preserved inviolate the integrity of their faith and discipline. This rigid theory was supported by the most uncharitable conduct. Whenever they acquired a proselyte, even from the distant provinces of the East, they carefully repeated the sacred rites of baptism and ordination; as they rejected the validity of those which he had already received from the hands of heretics and schismatics. Bishops, virgins, and even spotless infants, were subjected to the disgrace of a public penance before they could be admitted to the communion of the Donatists. If they obtained possession of a church which had been used by their catholic adversaries, they purified the unhallowed building with the same jealous care which a temple of idols might have required. They washed the pavement, scraped the walls, burnt the altar, which was commonly of wood, melted the consecrated plate, and cast the holy eucharist to the dogs, with every circumstance of ignominy which could provoke and perpetuate the animosity of religious factions.” Such an account would almost describe proceedings of religious fanatics at a date much nearer our own age. But the fervour to which the Donatist schism gave birth produced under the African sun remarkable developments. “The rage of the Donatists was inflamed by a frenzy of a very extraordinary kind; and which, if it really prevailed amongst them in so extravagant a degree, cannot surely be paralleled in any country or in any age. Many of these fanatics were possessed with the horror of life and the desire of martyrdom; and they deemed it of little moment by what means, or by what hands they perished, if their conduct was sanctified by the intention of devoting themselves to the glory of the true faith, and the hope of eternal happiness.” They would disturb worshippers, waylay travellers, or insult courts of justice, in the hope of achieving martyrdom. Failing other resources, they would cast themselves headlong from some lofty rock. “In the actions of these desperate enthusiasts, who were admired by one party as the martyrs of God, and abhorred by the other as the victims of Satan, an impartial philosopher may discover the influence, and the last abuse, of that inflexible spirit which was originally derived from the character and principles of the Jewish nation.”

Genseric, King of the Vandals, landed in Africa from Spain in A.D. 429. Born a Catholic, he embraced the Arian heresy, and made common cause with the African Donatists. He swept through Barbary, an easy conqueror. His fleets ravaged the coasts of Italy and Sicily. In A.D. 455 he sacked Rome. For a hundred years the rough Northmen held the fertile provinces. They rasedrased the fortifications, but did not overthrow the Roman cities; they rather succumbed to their luxury. They did not destroy, but they constructed nothing. They had no thought of substituting their own institutions for those of the conquered races. They considered themselves merely a garrison, for which the country must provide subsistence. Their decadence commenced with the death of their leader.

In the early part of the sixth century Byzantium set himself to take up the mantle which Rome had let fall. The great Justinian determined to make good his claim to all the former possessions of the Empire. The Vandals were in no condition to offer a vigorous resistance. The native population was everywhere in revolt. The tribes of the AurÈs descended from their mountains and sacked the fair cities which had been raised under the protection of the Third Legion—Tebessa, Bagai, Lambessa, and Timgad. Belisarius, the Byzantine general, landed in Tripoli in A.D. 533, and, marching rapidly westward, met with little resistance. In a few years a great part of the corn-growing districts was brought under effective control. All the ports were held by Byzantine garrisons. Barbary was to experience an Indian summer.

The first care of the Greeks was to build a series of fortresses to hold in check the tribes of mountain and desert which for generations had been acquiring greater boldness in war and pillage. Remains of such forts are all over the country. There is one at Timgad, situate about 150 yards from the Southern Baths. It is a great quadrilateral flanked with square towers, and covering more than 7000 square yards. It is extraordinarily solid in construction, the walls being nine feet thick. But it is at Tebessa that the most perfect example of Byzantine fortification exists. The enceinte encloses the Arab town, and to put it into a state of defence the French have only had to execute a few repairs. For these hastily constructed fortresses any materials which came to hand were used. Into the solid walls faced with square blocks were thrown the debris of private houses, the friezes of temples, the statues of the gods. What the Vandal had spared, the Berber and the Byzantine between them made an end of.

Under the shelter of these fortified places a neo-Roman civilization budded again. The great proprietors and the wealthy financiers of the later Empire had disappeared. Their place was taken by the Church. The bishops occupied themselves with business of every description, political, financial, administrative, and even military. Vast sums were spent in the construction of great basilicas and monasteries, the ruins of which may be seen at Timgad and Tebessa to-day. To this period doubtless belongs the huge building, basilica and monastery, to the west of Timgad. It covers a space of not less than 20,000 square yards. The basilica is 200 feet long and 70 feet wide, and is preceded by a court-yard of the same size as itself. It is built chiefly of stones taken from the neighbouring pagan temples, which must have been already in ruin at the time of its erection. If, as some suppose, these great churches were built originally during the fourth and fifth centuries, before the Vandal invasion, there can be little doubt that they were rebuilt with modifications and enlargements during the Byzantine period.

The domination of the Church did not make for the prosperity or security of the people. The great dreams of Justinian were never realized; his enterprise from the very beginning had in it the seeds of decay. The rapacity of the ecclesiastics at least equalled that of the former Treasury officials; the husbandmen were plunged in a condition of abject poverty; the persecution of schismatics decimated the population. Native insurrections, mutinies of troops, sullen detestation of the people prepared the way for the easy fall of the Byzantine administration before the invading Arabs of the next century.

It is natural to compare Timgad with Pompeii, and the comparison has often been made. But beyond the fact that both were towns of the Roman Empire, and that the ruins of both have been preserved to an extent unparalleled elsewhere, they have no great resemblance. It happened to me, as probably it has happened to few, two or three weeks after leaving Timgad, while the memory of it was fresh, to stand once again in the Forum of Pompeii. I recalled their different conditions. They were not contemporary; Pompeii was destroyed before Timgad was built; Pompeii, rather Greek than Roman in origin, was a pleasure town of the first century, which, after damage by an earthquake at the zenith of its prosperity, was overwhelmed by ashes from Vesuvius; Timgad was a military and commercial town of the second and third centuries, ruined first by religious faction and financial breakdown, and finally overthrown of set purpose by a horde of mountaineers. To compare them is like comparing the Tunbridge Wells of the eighteenth century with the Pretoria of the twentieth. The contrasts their ruins present are those we should expect. Timgad is more solid and more serious; its public buildings are finer; its main streets are more important; and there is nothing at Pompeii to compare with the magnificent arch of Trajan. But Pompeii is richer in minor matters, in all the illuminating incidents of private life; its chief interest lies in its wonderful houses, and in the almost miraculous preservation of much of their interior decoration. And their situations accord with their peculiarities. Timgad lies on a bare hill-side, far from the habitations of man; Pompeii hard by the lovely bay of Sorrento, in one of the fairest landscapes of Italy. The cities are not rivals; they supplement each other; and those of us to whom a study of what was before is one of the chief interests of life may be grateful that we have so much of both.