THEIR HISTORY DURING THE AGES OF PERSECUTION.
How long the Roman Christians were allowed to bury their dead where they
pleased, and to visit their tombs in peace, we can hardly say. In Africa
there had been a popular outcry against the Christian cemeteries, and
a demand for their destruction, in the beginning of the third century;
and the same thing may have happened in Rome also at the same or even
at an earlier date. The first certain record, however, of any legal
interference with the Roman Catacombs belongs to a period fifty years
later, by which time they must have been both numerous and extensive; it
must also have been very notorious where they were situated. We have seen
how public the entrance was to the Catacomb of St. Domitilla in the first
century, and there is no reason to suppose that this was an exception to
the general rule. The Cœmeterium Ostrianum, on the Via Nomentana, was as
old, and probably as well known, for it was the place where St. Peter
had baptized; the Catacomb of St. Priscilla, too, of the noble family of
Pudens, on the Via Salara, and several others.
We read of St. Anacletus, who was Bishop of Rome about A.D. 160,
that he built some sort of monument over the tomb of St. Peter on the
Vatican, and his predecessors and some few of his successors till the
end of the century were buried in this same place, _juxta corpus Beati
Petri_, as the old records have it. Around the tomb of St. Paul, also,
on the Via Ostiensis, a cemetery was formed, of which a few monuments
still remain, bearing dates of the first decade of the second century.
Hence a priest, writing in that same century, calls these tombs of the
Apostles “the trophies,” or triumphal monuments, “of those who had laid
the foundation of the Church in Rome.” About a hundred years later we
read of St. Fabian—Pope A.D. 236-250—that “he caused numerous buildings
to be constructed throughout the cemeteries.” And this expression seems
to imply that the cemeteries were no longer private property (as several
of them undoubtedly were at the first), but belonged to the Church in
her corporate capacity, and were administered, therefore, under the
superintendence of her rulers. We have contemporary evidence that this
was the condition of a cemetery on the Via Appia from the beginning of
the third century, Pope Zephyrinus having set over it his chief deacon,
Callixtus; and the obvious advantages of such an arrangement may have
led to its general, if not universal, adoption. At any rate, we cannot
doubt that “the numerous buildings he caused to be constructed throughout
the cemeteries” were either oratories for public worship, or chambers
for the celebration of the _agapæ_, which he caused to be built after
the fashion of the _scholæ_ of the Pagan burial-clubs, in the _areæ_ of
cemeteries which had not had them before; and we can easily understand
how this increased provision of places for assembly had been rendered
necessary by the rapid multiplication of the faithful during the long
peace which the Church had enjoyed since the reign of Caracalla.
At the first beginning of the Church in Rome, the Christians had, of
course, met together only in private houses, “under cover of that
great liberty which invested with a sort of sacred independence the
Roman household;” but as their numbers increased, this could not have
sufficed. Very early in the third century, therefore, and probably even
much earlier, there were places of public Christian worship within
the city; and it seems certain that the faithful were allowed also to
assemble (at least under ordinary circumstances) in the public _areæ_
of their cemeteries up to the middle of the same century. The language
of Tertullian, complaining that the heathen “had become acquainted with
their days of meeting, and that hence they were continually besieged,
betrayed, and caught unawares in their most secret congregations,”
suggests rather the idea of meetings in subterranean hiding-places than
of public assemblies. But he also tells us that some congregations
used to purchase immunity to themselves by payment of tribute to the
Government, and that for this purpose they were enrolled on the police
registers, where, as he takes care to remind them, they found themselves
in anything but respectable company. These, of course, must have had
public places of meeting; but under what title they can have met, unless
it was that of burial-clubs, such as were described in our last chapter,
it is not easy to conjecture. They could not be enrolled merely as
professors of the Christian faith; for ever since the first persecution
by Nero, the Roman Government had persistently refused to give any legal
recognition to “the new superstition.” For a while, indeed, the Jews
and Christians had been regarded as professing the same religion, and
this was a great gain to the Christians, for there had been a decree
of Cæsar that the Jews throughout the whole Roman Empire should be
allowed to keep their ancient customs without let or hindrance. The Jews
themselves soon vigorously denounced their supposed co-religionists,
and when Christianity had once established its independence of Judaism,
it fell under the ban of an illicit religion. Thenceforward, though the
Christians were not always being persecuted, they were always liable to
persecution, so that even when it was forbidden to accuse them, yet, if
they were brought before justice and acknowledged themselves Christians,
it was forbidden to absolve them. This was the state of things under the
reign of Aurelian and Commodus, in the latter half of the second century,
when we read of a certain senator, named Apollonius, that he was accused
of Christianity, and pleading guilty to the charge, was beheaded, while
yet the man who had informed against him was condemned to death also, but
by the more cruel and ignominious method of breaking on the wheel. The
beautiful story of St. Cecilia, too, belongs (it is now ascertained) to
some more active period of persecution about this same time. The story
need not be repeated here, but one of its details is worth referring
to, as it probably gives a true picture of what was happening not
unfrequently in those days, viz., that some of the clergy lay hid in the
Catacombs, and inquirers after the truth were conducted by trusty guides
to their retreat. We must not suppose, however, that any large number
of the faithful ever took refuge there for any length of time; indeed,
such a thing would have been physically impossible. The Christians
assembled there for purposes of worship when the public exercise of their
religion was interfered with; and then this secrecy, thus cruelly forced
upon them, was cast in their teeth, and they were called “a skulking,
darkness-loving people.”
At length, in the year 253, Valerian published a decree whereby he sought
to close against them even this subterranean retreat; he forbade them
“either to hold assemblies or to enter those places which they call their
cemeteries.” The edict was, of course, disobeyed, and Pope Sixtus II.,
with some of his deacons, was surprised and martyred in the Catacomb of
Pretextatus. This Catacomb was situated in a vineyard on the opposite
side of the road from the Catacomb of St. Callixtus, and perhaps it had
been selected as the place of meeting because it was less known to the
public than that chief of Christian cemeteries. The secret, however, had
been betrayed, and (as we learn from an inscription by Pope Damasus)
the Holy Pontiff was apprehended whilst in the midst of a religious
function. The faithful who were present vied with one another in offering
themselves to martyrdom, in his company at least, if not in his stead,
but only the deacons obtained the coveted privilege. The Bishop himself
was led before the tribunal, condemned, and then brought back to the
scene of his “crime,” where he received the crown of martyrdom either
in his pontifical chair itself, or at least so near to it that it
was sprinkled by his blood. The charge on which he was condemned was
distinctly this, “that he had set at nought the commands of Valerian.”
But in the following year these commands were revoked, and during the
next fifty or sixty years the Catacombs come before us in successive
periods of Church history as enjoying good or evil fortune according to
the varying fortunes of the Church herself, of which they became a chief
battle-field. If Valerian interdicted them, Gallienus, his son, restored
them; and thus they were tolerated and forbidden, forbidden and tolerated
again, according to the will of the Government, until at last, before the
end of the century, they were confiscated altogether.
More than two centuries had now elapsed since the Catacombs were begun,
and they had attained a degree of development far beyond anything
that could have been anticipated. Divers modifications also had been
gradually introduced in the execution of the work, and of these it will
be worth while to give some account. We will take the cemetery of St.
Callixtus as a specimen; for although in almost every Catacomb there is
some difference in detail from the rest, caused either by some local
peculiarity, or by the mere taste or caprice of those who made it, yet,
in outline at least, the process of development must have been the same
in all. It seems to have been something of this kind. At first a plot
of ground in some suitable situation was either given by its Christian
proprietor, or acquired by purchase, and secured by all necessary legal
formalities—probably also enclosed by a wall or other fence—as a place
of burial. A plan of excavation was then determined upon, and the
work begun. Whilst as yet the _fossors_ had had no experience of the
consistency of the material in which they were to labour, and whilst they
imagined themselves to be providing for the burial only of a few, they
would naturally work freely and without much regard to economy of space.
But as time went on the necessity for economy would become apparent; then
they had recourse to various devices for securing it. They lowered the
floors both of the vaults and galleries, so that they might receive more
tiers of graves. They made the galleries somewhat narrower than before,
and closer to one another. At the angles of their intersection, where
the friability of the rock would not admit of full-sized graves being
cut, they made smaller graves for infants, that the space might not be
wasted. They did the same also even in the shelves of rock which had
been left as a necessary support between the several tiers of graves.
Everywhere unnecessary labour was spared; no more soil was removed than
was absolutely necessary for the purpose required. The graves were
made wider at the head and shoulders, and narrower at the feet; and if
two bodies were to be buried in a double grave (_locus bisomus_), the
soil was excavated only in exact proportion, the feet of the one being
generally laid by the head of the other.
These expedients, however, could not materially enlarge the space
available for graves, and the _fossors_ were driven to excavate another
flat (so to speak) either above or below the first. And here they were
enabled more easily to provide chambers in which the faithful could
assemble in time of persecution. The first subterranean chambers had
been made small and plain, and rectangular in shape—mere family vaults
apparently; but in the second and third floors we find them both more
numerous, more spacious, and in a greater variety of forms, furnished
also with _luminaria_, or shafts communicating with the surface of
the ground, whereby light and air could be supplied to those who were
assembled below. Some of them were decorated with cornices, columns,
pilasters, brackets and chairs, hewn out of the solid rock. To the
period of persecution belong also those galleries which connect parts
of the more important cemeteries with the sandpits in their immediate
neighbourhood—connections which were both studiously concealed, and, in
some instances at least, designedly rendered dangerous to the use of
strangers.
[Illustration: _Diogenes the Fossor._]
Other features in the development of the architecture of the Catacombs
must be passed over, as they cannot be appreciated except by means of a
personal examination on the spot, or with the aid of more abundant plans
and drawings than our present limits will allow. We must not, however,
omit to say a few words about the noble band of workmen by whom these
stupendous excavations were being made. We learn something about them
even from the Catacombs themselves. Here and there, among the decorations
of some of the vaults, may be seen the figures of men armed with pickaxes
and lamps, and other instruments necessary for subterranean excavation,
and several epitaphs have preserved to us the official title of these
men: they were called _fossores_, or diggers. Their work must have been
extremely laborious, and hence, in the imperial laws of the fourth and
fifth centuries, they appear under a name derived from this circumstance.
They are there called _copiatæ_, or labourers _par excellence_; but in
all the inscriptions hitherto discovered in the Catacombs, they never
have any other name than _fossores_, or _fossarii_. Their life must
also have been one of continual danger and self-sacrifice. It was no
mere venal service which they rendered to the Church, but a work of
real devotedness. Moreover, they were necessarily in the confidence of
the Church’s rulers; they knew the exact place of burial of each martyr
and confessor, the times and places appointed for the celebration of
the holy mysteries, and so forth. We are not surprised, therefore, to
hear, on the authority of St. Jerome, that they were reckoned among the
_clerics_; and although they are not mentioned in the list of the Roman
clergy sent to St. Cyprian about A.D. 240, we find them enumerated in an
official document of the first decade of the fourth century, where they
follow immediately after the bishop, priests, deacons, and sub-deacons.
In the list furnished to St. Cyprian, it is probable that they are
included among the _ostiarii_, with whose duties their own must have
been in part identical as long as the Christians continued to worship in
the Catacombs. However, be this as it may, there can be no doubt that
during the earliest ages of the Church the _fossors_ were supported, like
the rest of her ministers, by the voluntary gifts of the faithful; and
the whole work of the Catacombs was carried on by means of the mutual
spontaneous liberality of the whole body of Christians, not by any fixed
tax exacted for each grave that was required.
We have now completed our sketch of the outward history of the Catacombs
during the ages of persecution. We have noted the vicissitudes of
their fortunes at various times, traced the gradual process of their
architectural development, and paid our tribute of admiration to the
men who made them. Would that it were also possible to add a faithful
abstract of the chronicles of these venerable sanctuaries during those
eventful years! Many must have been the tender and stirring scenes of
which they were the witnesses; but, alas! of most of these all written
memorial has perished. Even of those which have reached us, the narrative
has generally been corrupted by later embellishments, so that there are
very few which rest on sufficiently authentic evidence to justify their
introduction in this place. The following, however, are exceptions to
this remark, and are too precious to be omitted.
Our first story belongs to the Pontificate of St. Stephen, and therefore
to the year 256 or thereabouts. We gather it partly from the Acts of the
Martyrs, and partly from the inscriptions which were set up at their
tombs before those Acts were written, or certainly before that particular
edition of the Acts was written which alone is now extant. The incidents
of the story are these:—A wealthy Greek family, consisting of a gentleman
and his wife and two children, and his brother, set sail for Italy.
They were overtaken in their voyage by a storm, during which they made
a vow to Pluto, and finally they reached their destination in safety.
During their stay in Rome the brother (Hippolytus) renounced idolatry,
and became a convert to the Christian faith, whereupon he devoted
himself to the laborious and heroic work of a _fossor_. This probably
happened during an interval when the Catacombs were under the ban of the
Government, for we read that the scene of his labours was an _arenarium_
or sandpit, and that he lived as well as worked in it. Certainly, the
conditions of life would have been much more tolerable in a sandpit than
in a proper Catacomb; and we have seen that, during times of persecution,
a connection was often made between the cemeteries and any adjacent
sandpit, in order to facilitate the means of entrance and of exit for
the poor hunted Christians. The fact of Hippolytus leading a solitary
life in the sandpit is mentioned as though it were a singularity, as,
indeed, we should have expected it to be; and it is added, that his
niece and nephew, aged nine and thirteen, used to visit and bring him
food there, until at length, at the suggestion of Stephen, Hippolytus
detained them one day, and so drew their parents to seek them in his
hiding-place, where they were eventually converted by means of a miracle
which they witnessed. Then, after being duly instructed and baptized,
they distributed their wealth to the poor; and having all received the
crown of martyrdom, they were buried in the same _arenarium_ in which
they had been wont to assemble during life. It was the _arenarium_
connected with the third story of the Catacomb of St. Callixtus, to which
a grand staircase was once made straight down from the surface of the
soil, for the convenience of the numerous pilgrims who came to do honour
to Hippolytus, Adrias and Paulina, Neo and Maria. The staircase has been
rediscovered, but the extremely friable nature of the soil has hitherto
baffled every attempt thoroughly to explore the sandpit.
It has been already told how this Catacomb of St. Callixtus was, as
it were, consecrated by the blood of St. Sixtus II., St. Stephen’s
successor. About thirty years later, during the Pontificate of St. Caius,
who himself had to lie hid in a catacomb for several years, we read of
a number of the faithful who were seen entering a cemetery on the Via
Salara to visit the tombs of SS. Chrysanthus and Daria; how, by order
of the Emperor (Numerian), the entrance was at once closed, and a vast
mound of sand and stones heaped up in front, that so they might all be
buried alive, even as the martyrs they had come to venerate. St. Gregory
of Tours tells us, that when the tombs of these martyrs were rediscovered
after the ages of persecution had ceased, there were found with them not
only the relics of those worshippers who had been thus cruelly put to
death—skeletons of men, women, and children lying on the floor—but also
the silver cruets which they had taken down with them for the celebration
of the sacred mysteries; and De Rossi holds out hopes that some traces
of this precious sanctuary may be restored even to our own generation.
For we know that Pope Damasus (by whom it was discovered) abstained from
making any of those changes whereby he sometimes decorated the martyrs’
tombs, but contented himself with setting up an historical inscription,
and opening a window in the adjacent wall or rock, that all might see,
without disturbing, a monument so unique and touching; and this was still
visible in St. Gregory’s days in the sixth century.
It is from another inscription of Pope Damasus that we learn the history
of the noble young acolyte and martyr, St. Tharsicius, who was seized
one day as he was leaving a catacomb in which the holy mysteries had
just been celebrated, and was carrying the Blessed Sacrament secretly
about his person to convey to some of the absent faithful, who were
either sick, or had not dared to fly in the face of the law prohibiting
the Christian assemblies. The youth sacrificed his life rather than
betray to Pagan eyes the priceless treasure that had been intrusted to
his keeping. Then they rifled his corpse, yet their profane curiosity
was not gratified; and the holy martyr was buried in the cemetery of St.
Callixtus, whence he had probably set out.
St. Agnes also belongs to the same period which we are trying to
illustrate, but she belongs to its very last stage, during the
persecution of Diocletian, when, as we have said, the Catacombs were
altogether confiscated. Still this did not succeed in rigorously
excluding the faithful. We know, from the irrefragable testimony of dated
inscriptions, that even at such times as these the Christians managed to
gain admission and to bury there. There is nothing, therefore, strange or
inconsistent with history in the story of her parents having been engaged
in prayer at her tomb two days after her martyrdom, when they were
consoled by the vision of her glory in heaven; nor in that other story
that her foster-sister, St. Emerentiana, was in the same place baptized
in her own blood.