Roman Theatre of Orange

Stand still for a moment and listen. Even with people all around you, voices carry strangely here. A cough on the far side of the seating arrives clear and close. Under your feet the stone is worn smooth, pale and warm in the Provençal sun. In front of you rises a single wall, a vast golden-brown cliff of cut stone. That wall is the reason people have travelled to this small town in southern France for centuries.

You are in the Roman Theatre of Orange. It is one of the best-preserved theatres from the Roman world. What makes it so rare is the stage wall. Many Roman theatres survive as rings of seats around an empty space. Here the great backdrop behind the stage still stands to its full height. Very few theatres anywhere in the former empire can show you this.

The town around you began as a Roman colony called Arausio. It was founded in the first century before Christ for retired soldiers of a Roman legion. Rome often rewarded its veterans with land in newly conquered territory. Those settlers needed what every Roman town needed — a forum, baths, temples, and a place for entertainment. The theatre was built in the early first century, during the reign of the emperor Augustus.

Look at how the seating is placed. The curved rows are cut partly into the slope of the hill behind you, called Saint-Eutrope hill. This was a practical Roman choice. The hill supported the weight of the stone seats, so builders needed fewer heavy foundations. The seating was also divided by social rank. The most important citizens sat closest to the stage. Ordinary townspeople sat higher up, and the poorest sat at the very top.

Now turn back to the stage wall. It is about 103 metres long and about 37 metres high. That is roughly the height of a modern twelve-storey building. Today the wall looks plain and bare. In Roman times it was very different. It was covered with marble panels, columns in several levels, painted surfaces, and statues set into niches. The rough stone you see now was once the hidden skeleton behind all that decoration.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. The wall did more than make a beautiful backdrop. It also worked as a giant sound reflector. It sent the actors' voices out across the seating towards thousands of spectators. Actors wore masks, and some scholars believe the masks also helped project the voice. Try it yourself later from the upper rows. Ask a companion to speak normally near the stage, and notice how much you can hear.

In the central niche high above the stage stands a statue of an emperor, generally identified as Augustus. He is shown in military dress, with one arm raised. The statue is about three and a half metres tall. It was put back in its place in the twentieth century, assembled from ancient fragments with modern additions. For the Roman audience, the message was clear. Every performance took place under the gaze of the emperor and the power of Rome.

What did people watch here? Roman audiences enjoyed comedies, tragedies, and especially mime and pantomime. These were popular shows with music, dance, and broad humour. Performances could last for many hours. Entry was usually paid for by wealthy citizens or officials, who used the shows to win public favour. Think of the noise of a full crowd here, the vendors, the dust, and the bright colours of the stage behind the actors.

When the Roman Empire declined, the theatre lost its purpose. Christian authorities disapproved of theatrical shows, and the building was closed. Over the following centuries, it became something else entirely. In the Middle Ages it was used as part of the town's defences. Later, houses and small streets filled the space where the seats and stage had been. People lived inside the old theatre, using its walls for shelter.

That long period of reuse is, surprisingly, one reason the stage wall survived. It was too useful to tear down. Many Roman monuments were taken apart and their stones carried away for new buildings. Here, the wall remained part of daily life. In the nineteenth century, the houses were cleared away, and serious restoration began. The seating you sit on today is partly original and partly reconstructed.

A famous remark is linked to this wall. King Louis the Fourteenth of France is said to have called it the finest wall in his kingdom. Whether or not he spoke those exact words, the phrase has followed the theatre ever since. In 1981 the theatre was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, together with the Roman triumphal arch on the northern edge of town. Both monuments are worth seeing on the same visit.

The theatre is not only a ruin. It is still a working stage. Since the nineteenth century it has hosted a summer festival of opera and music, the Chorégies d'Orange, often described as the oldest festival of its kind in France. Look up above the stage and you will see a modern roof of steel and glass. It was added in the early twenty-first century to protect the stage wall and the performers below.

Before you leave, walk up to the higher rows and sit for a few minutes. Watch the shadows move across the stone niches. Notice the swifts circling above the wall in summer, and the sound of the town beyond it. Two thousand years ago, people sat on these same steps and looked at this same wall. As you walk out, turn around once more. The wall will still be there, catching the light, as it has for twenty centuries.