THEIR INSCRIPTIONS.
What student of antiquity, or what merely intelligent observer of men
and manners, is content to leave an old church or churchyard without
first casting his eye over its monumental inscriptions? In like manner,
we think our readers would justly complain if we bade them take leave
of the Catacombs without saying a word about their epitaphs. And if the
study of any considerable number of epitaphs anywhere is pretty sure
to be rewarded by the discovery of something more or less interesting,
how much more have we not a right to expect from the monuments of Roman
Christianity during a period of three or four hundred years!
And truly, if all these monuments had been preserved and gathered
together into one place, or, better still, had all been left in their
original places, they would have formed an invaluable and inexhaustible
library for the Christian archæologist. This, however, has not been
their lot. Hundreds and thousands of them have been destroyed by those
who have broken into the Catacombs from time to time during the last
thousand years, and drawn from them materials for building. Others,
again, and amongst them some of the most valuable, have been given to
learned antiquarians or devout ecclesiastics, who coveted them for
their own private possession, and carried them off to their own distant
homes, without reflecting upon the grievous injury which they were thus
inflicting upon those that should come after them. A much larger number
have been most injudiciously placed, even by persons who knew their
value, and were anxious for their preservation, in the pavements of Roman
churches, where they have been either gradually effaced by the constant
tread of worshippers, or thoughtlessly removed and lost sight of on
occasion of some subsequent restoration of this portion of the church.
A few have been more securely placed in the museums of the Capitol and
of the Roman College, in the porticoes of some of the Roman churches, or
in the cloisters of convents. Lastly, twelve or thirteen hundred were
brought together, some eighty or ninety years ago, in the Library and
Lapidarian Gallery at the Vatican—a number sufficiently great to enable
us to appreciate their value, and to increase our regret that so many
more should have been dispersed and lost.
It is to the sovereign Pontiffs that we are principally indebted for
whatever fragments have been preserved from the general wreck. As early
as the middle of the fifteenth century, Pope Nicholas V. seems to have
entertained the idea of collecting all the lapidarian monuments of early
Christianity which had at that time been discovered; and both Eugenius
IV., his immediate predecessor, and Calixtus III. who succeeded him,
forbade, under heavy penalties, the alienation or destruction of anything
belonging to this class of monuments. When Leo X., too, appointed Raphael
to superintend the works at the rebuilding of St. Peter’s, he gave him
a special charge that the _res lapidaria_ should not be injured. In
later times, these injunctions became more earnest and more frequent, in
proportion to the increasing number and importance of the inscriptions
that were brought to light. Still nothing practical appears to have been
devised until the reign of Benedict XIV., who appointed the learned
Francesco Bianchini to collect all the inscribed stones that could be
found; and it was he who recommended the long narrow gallery leading
to the Vatican Library and Museum as a convenient place for their
preservation. Even then political and other difficulties interfered to
prevent the execution of the design, so that it was not until the close
of the last century that it was really carried out by Gaetano Marini,
under the orders of Pope Pius VI. It is to be regretted that he took so
little pains to make the most of such materials as he had. He merely
inserted the monuments in the wall, without giving any indication of the
places where they had been found, or making any attempts to classify
them, beyond separating the few which contain the names of the consuls
from those which are without this chronological note. A small selection
has since been made, in our own day, by De Rossi, in obedience to the
orders of Pope Pius IX., and placed in a gallery of the Lateran Palace,
adjoining the Christian Museum. The arrangement of these specimens (few
as they are, comparatively speaking) makes it a valuable guide to those
who would study this part of our subject to any profit.
The collections at the Vatican and the Lateran together do not exceed
two thousand. Hundreds of others, recovered by more recent excavations,
have not yet found a suitable home; many have been left in their original
sites. Still it will always remain true that the number actually in
existence is quite insignificant when compared with those which have been
destroyed or lost. A large proportion, however, even of these have not
altogether perished; they were copied, not always with accuracy, yet with
praiseworthy diligence, by various scholars, even from the eighth and
ninth centuries; and since the invention of printing, similar collections
have been, of course, more frequent. We need not enter into any detailed
account of these; we will say but a brief word even about De Rossi’s
collection, for as yet he has only published the first volume, which
contains all the Christian inscriptions of Rome during the first six
centuries, whose date is indisputably fixed by the names of the consuls
having been appended to them.
Of these, only one belongs to the first century, two to the second, the
third supplies twenty, and the fourth and fifth about five hundred each.
Of this last century, of course, only those which belong to the first ten
years can be claimed for the Catacombs, because, as we have already seen,
they ceased after that period to be the common cemetery of the faithful.
It appears, then, that all the dated inscriptions of gravestones found in
the Catacombs up to the year 1864 do not amount to six hundred: whence
some writers have argued that in the earliest ages Christians were not
in the habit of inscribing epitaphs on their graves. This conclusion,
however, is obviously illogical; for we have no right to assume that
the proportion between dated and undated inscriptions remained uniform
during the first four centuries. If there are only six hundred epitaphs
bearing the names of consuls, there are more than twice as many thousands
without those names; and we must seek, by independent processes of
inquiry, to establish other chronological criteria, which, if not equally
exact, may yet be shown to be generally trustworthy. And this is what
De Rossi has done, with a zeal tempered by caution which is beyond all
praise. It would be impossible to exaggerate, first, the slow and patient
industry with which he has accumulated observations; then the care
and assiduity with which he compares the innumerable examples he has
collected with one another, so as to ascertain their marks of resemblance
and difference; and finally, the moderation with which he has drawn his
conclusions. These vary in value, from mere conjecture to the highest
degree of probability, or even of moral certainty. In a popular work
like this, there is no room for discussion; we must confine ourselves to
a statement of some of the best ascertained and most important facts,
resting upon certain chronological canons, which a daily increasing
experience warrants us in saying are now demonstrated with palpable and
almost mathematical exactness.
First, then, De Rossi observes it as a notable fact, attested by the
contents of all the Catacombs, that the most ancient inscriptions on
Christian tombs differ from those of the Pagans “more by what they do
_not_ say, than by what they do say.” The language of Christian epigraphy
was not created in a day any more than Christian art was. There were
urgent reasons for changing or omitting what the Pagans had been wont to
use; but the Church did not at once provide anything else in its stead.
Hence the very earliest Christian tombstones only recorded the bare name
or names of the deceased, to which, in a _very few_ instances, chiefly
of ladies, one or two words, or the initials of words, were added, to
denote the rank or title which belonged to them—_e.g._, C.F., _clarissima
femina_, or lady of senatorial rank. Generally speaking, however, there
is an entire absence from these epitaphs of all those titles of rank
and dignity with which Pagan monuments are so commonly overloaded. And
the same must be said of those titles also which belong to the other
extremity of the social scale, such as _servus_ and _libertus_. One
cannot study a dozen monuments of Pagan Rome without coming across some
trace of this great social division of the ancient world into freemen
and slaves. Yet in a number of Christian inscriptions in Rome, exceeding
twelve or thirteen thousand, and all belonging to centuries during which
slavery still flourished, scarcely ten have been found—and even two or
three of these are doubtful—containing any allusion whatever to this
fundamental division of ancient Roman society. It is not to be supposed
that there was any legislation upon the subject; not even, perhaps,
a hint from the clergy; it was simply the spontaneous effect of the
religious doctrines of the new society, reflected in their epigraphy as
in a faithful mirror. The children of the Primitive Church did not record
on their monuments titles of earthly dignity, because they knew that with
the God whom they served there was no respect of persons; neither did
they care to mention the fact of their bondage, or of their deliverance
from bondage, to some earthly master, because they thought only of that
higher and more perfect liberty “wherewith Christ had set them free;”
remembering that “he that was called, being a bondman, was yet a freeman
of the Lord; and likewise he that was called, being free, was still the
bondman of Christ.”
We repeat, then, that the most ancient inscriptions on Christian
gravestones in Rome consisted merely of the name of the deceased;
ordinarily his _cognomen_ only, though in some of the very earliest
date the name of the _gens_ was also added; not, we may be sure, from
a motive of vanity, but merely for the purpose of identification.
Large groups of inscriptions of this kind may still be seen in some of
the oldest portions of subterranean Rome; traced in vermilion on the
tiles, as in the Catacomb of Sta. Priscilla, or engraved in letters of
most beautiful classical form, as in the Cœmeterium Ostrianum and the
Cemetery of Pretextatus. The names are often of classical origin; nearly
a hundred instances of Claudii, Flavii, Ulpii, Aurelii, and others of
the same date, carrying us back to the period between Nero and the first
of the Antonines. Very often there is added after the names, as on Pagan
tombstones, such words as _filio dulcissimo_, _conjugi dulcissimo_, or,
_incomparabili_, _dulcissimis parentibus_, and nothing else. In fact,
these epitaphs vary so little from the old classical type, that had they
not been seen by Marini and other competent witnesses—some of them even
by De Rossi himself—in their original position, and some of them been
marked with the Christian symbol of the anchor, we might have hesitated
whether they ought not rather to be classed among Pagan monuments; as
it is, we are sure that they belonged to the earliest Christian period;
that they are the gravestones of men who died in the Apostolic, or
immediately post-Apostolic age.
It was not to be expected, however, that Christian epitaphs should
always remain so brief and bare a record. In the light of Christian
doctrine, death had altogether changed its character; it was no longer an
everlasting sleep, though here and there a Christian epitaph may still be
found to call it so; it was no longer a final and perpetual separation
from those who were left behind; it was recognised as the necessary gate
of admission to a new and nobler life; and it was only likely, therefore,
that some tokens of this change of feeling and belief should, sooner or
later, find expression in the places where the dead were laid. Amid the
almost innumerable monumental inscriptions of Pagan Rome that have been
preserved to us, we seek in vain for any token of belief in a future
life. Generally speaking, there is a total silence on the subject; but
if the silence is broken, it is by faint traces of poetical imagery,
not by the distinct utterances of a firm hope, much less of a clear and
certain belief. The Christian epitaphs first broke this silence by the
frequent use of a symbol, the anchor indicating hope, carved or rudely
scratched beside the name upon the gravestone. Presently they added words
also; words which were the natural outpourings of hearts which were full
of Christian faith and love. On a few gravestones in those parts of the
Catacomb of Sta. Priscilla already spoken of, we read the Apostolic
salutation, _Pax tecum_, or _Pax tibi_; on one in the Cœmeterium
Ostrianum, _Vivas in Deo_, and these are the first germs, out of which
Christian epigraphy grew.
The epitaphs on the gravestones of the latter half of the second and
of the third centuries are only a development of the fundamental ideas
contained in these ejaculations. They still keep silence as to the
worldly rank, or the Christian virtues of the deceased; they do not even,
for the most part, tell us anything as to his age, or his relationship
to the survivor who sets up the stone; most commonly, not even the day
of his death or burial. But they announce with confident assurance that
his soul has been admitted to that happy lot reserved for the just who
have left this world in peace, that he is united with the saints, that
he is in God, and in the enjoyment of good things; or they breathe a
humble and loving prayer that he may soon be admitted to a participation
in these blessings. They ask for the departed soul peace, and light, and
refreshment, and rest in God and in Christ. Sometimes, also, they invoke
the help of his prayers (since he, they know, still lives in God) for
the surviving relatives whose time of trial is not yet ended. In a word,
they proceed upon the assumption that there is an incessant interchange
of kindly offices between this world and the next, between the living
and the dead; they represent all the faithful as living members of one
Body, the Body of Christ; as forming one great family, knit together in
the closest bonds of love; and this love finding its chief work and
happiness in prayer, prayer of the survivors for those who have gone
before, prayer of the blessed for those who are left behind. We subjoin
a few examples of the class of epitaphs of which we speak; and to secure
accuracy, we will only give those that we have ourselves copied from
the originals, and which every visitor to Rome may, therefore, still
see if he pleases. The figures which we have appended to some of these
inscriptions denote the column and the number under which they will
be found in the gallery at the Lateran; the letters K.M. refer to the
Kircherian Museum at the Roman College; and the last four may be seen
where they were found, in the Catacomb of SS. Nereus and Achilles.
1. PAX TECUM, URANIA, xviii. 17.
2. SPES, PAX TIBI. xviii. 20.
3. ΥΓΙΕΙΑ ΖΗΣΕΣ ΜΕΤΑ ΙΣΤΕΡΚΟΡΙΟΥ
ΤΟΥ ΛΕΓΟΜΕΝΟΥ ΥΓΕΙΝΟΥ ΕΝ ΤΕΩ. xix. 23.
4. ΦΙΓΟΥΜΕΝΗ ΕΝ ΕΙΡΗΝΗ ΣΟΥ ΤΟ ΠΝΕΥΜΑ. ix. 28.
5. LAIS CUM PACE. ISPIRITUS IN BONU QUESCAT. ix. 15.
6. SUSANNA VIVAS IN DEO. xx. 30.
7. SEMPER IN D. VIVAS, DULCIS ANIMA. ix. 5.
8. REGINA, VIVAS IN DOMINO ZESU. ix. 17.
9. BOLOSA, DEUS TIBI REFRIGERET QUÆ VIXIT ANNOS XXXI. ix. 12.
10. AMERIMNUS RUFINÆ ... SPIRITUM TUUM DEUS REFRIGERET. ix. 13.
11. REFRIGERA DEUS ANIMA HO.... ix. 14.
12. KALEMERE DEUS REFRIGERET SPIRITUM TUUM
UNA CUM SORORIS TUÆ HILARE. K. M.
13. LUCIFERE ... MERUIT TITULUM
INSCRIBI UT QUISQUI DE FRATRIBUS LEGERIT ROGET DEU
UT SANCTO ET INNOCENTI SPIRITO AD DEUM SUSCIPIATUR. ix. 10.
14. ANATOLIUS FILIO BENEMERENTI FECIT
QUI VIXIT ANNIS VII MENSIS VII DIEBUS XX
ISPIRITUS TUUS BENE REQUIESCAT
IN DEO. PETAS PRO SORORE TUA. viii. 19.
15. AURELIVS AGAPETVS ET AURELIA
FELICISSIMA ALVMNE FELICITATI
DIGNISSIMÆ QVE VICSIT ANIS XXX ET VI
ET PETE PRO CELSINIANV COJVGEM. viii. 21.
16. PETE PRO PARENTES TVOS
MATRONATA MATRONA
QVE VIXIT AN. I. DI. LIII. viii. 18.
17. ΔΙΟΝΥϹΙΟϹ ΝΗΠΙΟϹ ΑΚΑΚΟϹ ΕΝΘΑΔΕ
ΚΕΙΤΕ ΜΕΤΑ ΤΩΝ ΑΓΙΩΝ ΜΝΗϹΚΕϹΘΕ
ΔΕ ΚΑΙ ΗΜΩΝ ΕΝ ΤΑΙϹ ΑΓΙΑΙϹ ΥΜΩΝ
ΠΡΕΥΧΑΙϹ ΚΑΙ ΤΟΥ ΓΛΥΨΑΤΟϹ ΚΑΙ ΓΡΑΨΑΝΤΟϹ. K. M.
18. GENTIANVS FIDELIS IN PACE QVI VIX
IT ANNIS XXI MENNS VIII DIES
XVI ET IN ORATIONIS TVIS
ROGES PRO NOBIS QVIA SCIMVS TE IN ☧. (Vatican Gallery.)
19. ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙϹ ΕΤ ΛΕΟΝΤΙΑ
ϹΕΙΡΙΚΕ ΦΕΙΛΙΕ ΒΕΝΕΜΕΡΕΝ
ΤΙ ΜΝΗϹΘΗϹ ΙΗϹΟΥϹ
Ο ΚΥΡΙΟϹ ΤΕΚΝΟΝ Ε....
20. VICTORIA REFRIGER
ISSPIRITUS TUS IN BONO.
21. ... VIBAS IN PACE ET PETE PRO NOBIS.
22. ΖΗϹΑΙϹ ΕΝ ̅Κ̅Ω ΚΑΙ ΕΡΩΤΑ ΥΠΕΡ ΗΜΩΝ.
1. Peace with thee, Urania.
2. Peace to thee, Spes.
3. Hygeia, mayest thou live in God with Stercorius, who is
(also) called Hyginus.
4. Beloved one, may thy spirit be in peace.
5. Peace with thee, Lais. May thy spirit rest in good [_i.e._,
God].
6. Susanna, mayest thou live in God.
7. Sweet soul, mayest thou always live in God.
8. Regina, mayest thou live in the Lord Jesus.
9. Bolosa, may God refresh thee; who lived thirty-one years.
10. Amerimnus ... to Rufina, may the Lord refresh thy spirit.
11. Refresh, O God, the soul of ...
12. Kalemere, may God refresh thy spirit, together with that of
thy sister Hilare.
13. Lucifera ... deserved that an epitaph should be inscribed
to her, that whoever of the brethren shall read it, may pray
God that her holy and innocent spirit may be received to God.
14. Anatolius set this up to his well-deserving son, who lived
seven years, seven months, and twenty days. May thy spirit rest
well in God. Pray for thy sister.
15. Aurelius Agapetus and Aurelia Felicissima to their most
excellent foster-child Felicitas, who lived thirty-six years;
and pray for your husband Celsinianus.
16. Pray for your parents, Matronata Matrona, who lived one
year and fifty-three days.
17. Dionysius, an innocent child, lies here with the saints:
and remember us, too, in your holy prayers, both me who
engraved and me who wrote [this inscription].
18. Gentianus, one of the faithful, in peace, who lived
twenty-one years, eight months, and sixteen days: and in your
prayers make petition for us, because we know that thou art in
Christ.
19. Demetrius and Leontia to their well-deserving daughter
Syrica. Remember, O Lord Jesus, our child.
20. Victoria, may thy spirit be refreshed in good [_i.e._, in
God].
21. Mayest thou live in peace and pray for us.
22. Mayest thou live in the Lord and pray for us.
It would be easy to fill several pages with inscriptions of this kind;
but enough has been produced to impress upon the reader a fair idea of
their general character. They abound on the monuments of the second
and third centuries; but after that date they fade out of use, and are
succeeded by a new style of epigraphy, colder and more historical.
Mention is now made of the exact age of the deceased, and of the length
of his married life, not as to years only, but as to months, and
sometimes even as to days and hours; of the day of his death also, more
commonly of his burial, and, in a few instances, of both. To record the
day of the burial (_depositio_) was creeping into use before the end
of the third century; from the middle of the fourth, it became little
short of universal; and in this century and the next, mention of the
year also was frequently added. During this period, the phrase _in pace_
became general, as a formula to be used by itself absolutely without
any verb at all. In old Christian inscriptions in Africa, this phrase
frequently occurs with the verb _vixit_; in which case the word _pax_ is
undoubtedly used in the same sense in which Tertullian, St. Cyprian, and
other ecclesiastical writers employ it, as denoting peace with God to be
obtained through communion with the Church; and in a community distracted
by schisms and heresies, as the African Church was, such a record on
the tomb of a Christian is intelligible and important. Not so in Rome;
here the purport of the thousands of greetings of peace has reference to
the peace of a joyful resurrection and a happy eternity, whether spoken
of with confidence as already possessed, or only prayed for with glad
expectation. The act of death had been expressed in earlier epitaphs
under Christian phrases:—_Translatus de sæculo_; _exivit de sæculo_;
_arcessitus a Domino_, or _ab angelis_; _natus in æternum_; or, much more
commonly, _Deo reddidit spiritum_; and this last phrase had come into
such established use by the middle of the third century, that the single
letter R was a recognised abbreviation of it. But, in the second half of
that century, and still more frequently afterwards _decessit_ was used
in its stead; and in the fifth century we find this again superseded by
_Hic jacet_, _pausat_, _quiescit_, or _requiescit_.
Complimentary phrases as to the goodness, wisdom, innocence, and holiness
of the deceased came into fashion about the age of Constantine, and in
later times were repeated with such uniformity as to be quite wearisome;
we see that they were simply formal and unmeaning; not unfrequently
they were extravagant. Widows and widowers bear mutual testimony to one
another’s gentleness and amiability of disposition, which enabled them to
live together so many years _semper concordes, sine ullâ querelâ, sine
læsione animi_. But this was, after all, only a return to the style of
Pagan epigraphy, in which the very same phrases were frequently used.
Children are commended for innocence and simplicity of spirit; sometimes
also for wisdom and beauty! A child of five years old is _miræ bonitatis
et totius innocentiæ_. This belongs to the year 387. In the next century,
we find, for the first time, the phrase _contra votum_, which was also
a return to the language of Pagan parents when burying their children.
It cannot be said that there is anything absolutely unchristian in this
phrase; at the same time, it does not savour of that hearty resignation
to the will of God, or that cheerful assertion of His providence, to
be found in other epitaphs; as, for instance, in more than a score of
inscriptions recovered from the ancient cemetery in Ostia, in which this
resignation is touchingly expressed by the statement that the deceased
had ended his term of days “_when God willed it_.”
Of course, there still remains very much more that might be said, and
which it would be interesting to say, about the thousands of inscriptions
that have been found in the Catacombs; but we can only here attempt to
indicate the main outlines of the subject, and enough has been said to
satisfy our readers that Christian epigraphy followed the same laws of
development as Christian art. At first it resembled the corresponding
monuments of Paganism, excepting in those particulars in which Christian
dogma and Christian feeling suggested a departure from that model. Still
for a while that dogma and feeling found no distinct positive expression.
Then it began to whisper, at first in hidden symbols, such as the dove,
the anchor, and the fish; then, in the short but hearty apostolic
salutation, _Pax tecum_, _Pax tibi_, _Vivas in Deo_, and the like. By and
by these pious ejaculations, dictated by a spirit of affectionate piety
towards the deceased, and a tender solicitude for his eternal welfare,
became more frequent and less laconic; and so, step by step, a special
style of Christian epigraphy grows up spontaneously (as it were) out of
the joyful light of faith and hope of heaven. A certain type becomes
fixed, varying indeed, as all things human never fail to vary, in some
minor details, according to circumstances of time and place, or the
peculiar tastes and fancies of this or that individual, yet sufficiently
consistent to set a distinctive mark upon each particular period,
whilst by its variations during successive ages it faithfully reflects
(we may be sure) some corresponding change in the tone and temper of
the ordinary Christian mind. Christian epigraphy was born as Christian
art was, simultaneously with the introduction of Christianity itself
into the metropolis of the ancient world; it acquired all its special
characteristics, and perhaps attained its highest religious perfection,
before the end of the third century, after which its beautiful and
touching simplicity is somewhat marred and secularised by a gradual
influx of some of those modes of thought and expression which prevailed
in the world without.
Part Second.
CHAPTER I.
THE PAPAL CRYPT.
We have now acquired a sufficient general idea of the Catacombs to enable
us to understand what we see when we come to examine any one of them in
detail; and we will, therefore, proceed to pay a visit to the famous
Cemetery of Callixtus.
But first we must explain what is meant by this title. It may be used
in two senses. When first the Catacombs were made, and as long as the
true history of their origin and gradual development was remembered,
“the Cemetery of Callixtus” was only a small and well-defined area,
measuring 250 Roman feet by 100, and situated on a little cross-road
which united the Via Appia with the Via Ardeatina. But as time went on,
other areæ were joined to this, until at length a vast and intricate
subterranean necropolis was formed, measuring several hundred feet both
in length and breadth; and to the whole of this space, for convenience’
sake, we continue to give the name of one of its most ancient and famous
parts. In our visit we shall pass through some portions of several of
these areæ; for we shall first descend into the original “Cemetery of
Callixtus,” and we shall return to the upper world from the “Crypt of
Lucina,” which in the old martyrologies is spoken of as “near” that
cemetery, not as part of it.
[Illustration: _Galleries in Cemetery of St. Callixtus breaking through
graves._]
The casual visitor cannot, of course, expect to be able to distinguish
the limits of the several areæ which he traverses in his hurried
subterranean walk; nevertheless, if he keeps his eyes open, he cannot
fail to recognise occasional tokens of the transition; as, for instance,
when he finds himself passing from a higher to a lower level, or _vice
versâ_, or when the path which he is pursuing leads him through a wall
of broken graves, so that it has been necessary perhaps to strengthen
the points of connection by masonry. Any one who desires to study this
branch of the subject, will find it fully treated of, and made easily
intelligible, by numerous plans and illustrations either in the original
work of De Rossi, or in the English abridgment of it. The present popular
manual proposes to itself a more humble task. We propose to describe the
principal objects of interest which are shown to strangers, and to supply
such historical or archæological information as will give them a greater
interest in, and a keener appreciation of, the importance of what they
see.
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Cemetery of St. Callixtus._]
Without further preface, then, let us set out on our walk. Let us proceed
along the Via Appia till we come to a doorway on the right-hand side,
over which we read the words “Cœmeterium S. Callixti.” On entering the
vineyard our attention is first arrested by a ruined monument standing
close beside us. We shall have already seen others more or less like it
on both sides of the road since we came out of the city; and in answer to
our inquiries we shall have learnt that they are the remains of what were
once grand Pagan tombs, covered, probably, with marble and ornamented
with sculpture. Without stopping then to inquire whether anything special
is known about the history of this particular mausoleum, we will walk
forward to another more modest building standing in the middle of the
vineyard. It looks small and mean; and if we could enter it, we should
find that it is used only as a convenient magazine for the stowing away
of fragments of sarcophagi, or tombstones, extracted from the cemetery
which underlies it. Yet its apsidal termination, and the other apses on
either side of the building, naturally suggest to us that it must once
have had something of an ecclesiastical character. In truth, it was one
of the “numerous buildings constructed throughout the cemeteries” by
Fabian, pope and martyr, in the middle of the third century (see page
27), and was known to ancient pilgrims as the _cella memoriæ_, or chapel
of St. Sixtus and of St. Cæcilia, being built immediately over the tombs
of those martyrs. Originally, the end or fourth side of the building
was unenclosed, that so larger numbers of the faithful might assist at
the celebration of the holy mysteries: indeed the side-walls themselves
were not at first continued to their present length, but the building
consisted of little else than the three _exedræ_ or apses.
If we examine the ground round this ancient chapel, we shall see that it
was once used as a place of burial. All round it, but not within it, nor
yet quite close to its walls, but just at a sufficient distance from them
to allow space for the channels which carried off the water from the roof
(traces of which channels still remain), deep graves are dug, of various
sizes, but all arranged according to a regular plan of orientation.
These graves are made chiefly with blocks of tufa; but bricks also are
used, and thick layers of mortar. Some of them were cased inside with
marble, or at least had slabs of that material at the top and bottom,
the upper surface of the one serving as the bottom of another; and it is
worthy of remark that on several of these slabs were inscribed epitaphs
of the usual kind, though their position would necessarily conceal them
from every human eye. Some of the graves were made of sufficient depth
to receive ten bodies, one over the other; some could only receive
four; and occasionally only a single sarcophagus occupied the grave.
The average, however, may be taken at four bodies in each grave, which
would give a total of eight thousand persons buried over the first area
of the Catacomb of St. Callixtus. Of course this cemetery, being in the
open air, is no part of the catacomb—properly so called; it is of later
date, having been made in the fourth and fifth centuries, but it observes
precisely the same limits as the catacomb. The boundary-wall may still
be seen at no great distance from the chapel; and beyond it no graves are
to be found either in the cemetery or in the catacomb; a fact which shows
with what care the rights of private property were respected below ground
as well as above.
But now let us no longer tarry in the open air, but go down at once
into the catacomb. A staircase stands ready at our side, being in fact
a mere restoration of the original entrance. When we get to the bottom,
a keen eye may detect upon the plaster of the walls a certain number of
_graffiti_, as they are called, or scribblings of names, ejaculations,
&c., of very great antiquity. It is comparatively a new thing to pay any
attention to these rude scribblings of ancient visitors on the walls
of places of public resort, and to take pains to decipher them; but of
late years they have proved to be a most interesting subject of study,
whether found on the tombs of Egyptian kings in Thebes, on the walls of
the barracks and theatres in Pompeii, in the prisons and cellars of Pagan
Rome, or, lastly, in the Christian Catacombs. Here especially they have
proved to be of immense importance, being, as De Rossi justly calls them,
“the faithful echo of history and infallible guides through the labyrinth
of subterranean galleries;” for by means of them we can trace the path
that was followed by pilgrims to subterranean Rome from the fourth to
the seventh century, and identify the crypts or chapels which were most
frequently visited. Probably there is no group of ancient _graffiti_
in the world to be compared, either for number or intricacy, with those
which cover the wall at the entrance of the crypt we are about to enter;
and it must have been a work of infinite labour to disentangle and
decipher them. Now that the work has been done for us, however, by the
indefatigable De Rossi, we can see that they may be divided into three
classes. They are either the mere names of persons, with the occasional
adjunct of their titles; or they are good wishes, prayers, salutations,
or acclamations, on behalf of friends and relatives, living or dead; or,
lastly, they are invocations of the martyrs near whose tombs they are
inscribed.
Of the names we find two kinds; one, the most ancient and most numerous,
scribbled on the first coat of plaster, and in the most convenient and
accessible parts of the wall, are names of the old classical type, such
as Tychis, Elpidephorus, Polyneicus, Maximus, Nikasius, and the like; the
other, belonging manifestly to a somewhat later period, because written
on a later coat of plaster, and in more inaccessible places, high above
the first, are such as Lupo, Ildebrand, Ethelrid, Bonizo, Joannes Presb.,
Prando Pr., _indignus peccator_, &c., &c.
Prayers or acclamations for absent or departed friends are mixed among
the most ancient names, and generally run in the same form as the
earliest and most simple Christian epitaphs, _e.g._, VIVAS, VIVAS IN
DEO CRISTO, VIVAS IN ETERNO, ΖΗϹ ΕΝ ΘΕΩ, ΒΙΒΑϹ ΙΝ ΘΕΩ, TE IN PACE,
&c. “Mayest thou live in God Christ, for ever, Thee in peace,” &c. The
feeling which prompted the pilgrims who visited these shrines thus to
inscribe in sacred places the names of those they loved and would fain
benefit, is so natural to the human heart, that instances of it may be
found even among the heathen themselves.
But besides mere names and short acclamations, there are also in the
same place, and manifestly belonging to a very early age, prayers and
invocations of the martyrs who lay buried in these chapels. Sometimes
the holy souls of all the martyrs are addressed collectively, and
petitioned to hold such or such an one in remembrance; and sometimes this
prayer is addressed to one individually. The following may suffice as
specimens:—MARCIANUM SUCCESSUM SEVERUM SPIRITA SANCTA IN MENTE HAVETE,
ET OMNES FRATRES NOSTROS. PETITE SPIRITA SANCTA UT VERECUNDUS CUM SUIS
BENE NAVIGET. OTIA PETITE ET PRO PARENTE ET PRO FRATRIBUS EJUS; VIBANT
CUM BONO. SANTE SUSTE, IN MENTE HABEAS IN HORATIONES AURELIU REPENTINU.
ΔΙΟΝΥΣΙΝ ΕΙΣ ΜΝΙΑΝ ΕΧΕΤΑΙ (for ΕΧΕΤΕ). “Holy souls, have in remembrance
Marcianus Successus Severus and all our brethren. Holy souls, ask that
Verecundus and his friends may have a prosperous voyage. Ask for rest
both for my parent and his brethren; may they live with good Holy Sixtus,
have in remembrance in your prayers Aurelius Repentinus. Have ye in
remembrance Dionysius.”
The inspection of these _graffiti_, then, is enough to warn us that
we are on the threshold of a very special sanctuary of the ancient
Church, and to excite our deepest interest in all that we may find it
to contain. But our first impression on entering will probably be one
of disappointment. We were led to expect that we were about to visit a
Christian burial-place and place of worship of very great antiquity,
but the greater part of the masonry we see around us is manifestly of
quite recent construction. The truth is, that when this chamber was
rediscovered in 1854, it was in a complete state of ruin; access was
gained to it only through the _luminare_, which, as usual, had served
for many centuries as a channel for pouring into it all the adjacent
soil, fragments of grave-stones from the cemetery above-ground, decaying
brickwork, and every kind of rubbish. When this was removed, the vault
of the chamber, deprived of its usual support, soon gave way; so that,
if any portion of it was to be preserved and put in a condition to be
visited with safety, it was absolutely necessary to build fresh walls,
and otherwise strengthen it. This has been done with the utmost care,
and so as still to preserve, wherever it was possible, remains of the
more ancient condition of the chapel and of its decoration in succeeding
ages. Thus we are able to trace very clearly in the arch of the doorway
three stages or conditions of ornamentation by means of three different
coatings of plaster, each retaining some remnant of its original
painting. We can trace also the remains of the marble slabs with which,
at a later period, the whole chapel was faced; and even this _later_
period takes us back to the earlier half of the fifth century, when, as
the _Liber Pontificalis_ tells us, St. Sixtus III. _platoniam fecit in
Cœmeterio Callixti_. The fragments of marble columns and other ornamental
work, which lie scattered about on the pavement, belong probably to
the same period, or they may have been the work of St. Leo III., the
last pontiff of whom we read that he made restorations here before the
translation of the relics by Pope Paschal I. Again, the raised step or
dais of marble, which we see directly opposite to us at the further end
of the chapel, having four holes or sockets in it, was of course found
here as it now is, and it shows plainly where the altar once stood,
supported on four pillars; but in the wall behind this platform we seem
to detect traces of a yet older and more simple kind of altar—a sepulchre
hewn out of the rock, the flat covering of which was probably the
original _mensa_ whereon the holy mysteries were celebrated in this place.
Thus, spite of the ruin and the neglect of ages, and spite of the work
of restoration which has been thereby made necessary in our own time,
many clear traces still remain both of its original condition and of the
reverent care with which successive generations of the ancient Church
did their best to adorn this chamber. The cause of this extraordinary
and long-continued veneration is revealed to us, in part, by a few
grave-stones which have been recovered from amid the rubbish, and which
are now restored, if not to the precise spots they originally occupied
(which we cannot tell), yet certainly to the _walls_ in which they were
first placed; in part also by an inscription of Pope Damasus, which,
though broken into more than a hundred pieces, has yet been put together
from the fragments discovered in this chamber, the few words or letters
that have not been found being supplied in letters of a different colour;
the whole, therefore, may now again be read just where our forefathers in
the faith read it when it was first set up 1500 years ago. The tombstones
are of St. Anteros and St. Fabian, who sat in the chair of Peter from
A.D. 235 to 250; of St. Lucius, A.D. 252; and of St. Eutychianus, who
died nearly thirty years later. No one having an intimate acquaintance
with Christian epigraphy doubts that these are the original grave-stones
of the Popes whose names they bear; and it is certain that other Popes of
the same century were buried here also; but as their tombstones are not
before our eyes, we will say nothing about them in this place, but go on
to speak of the inscription of Pope Damasus. It runs in this wise:—
HIC CONGESTA JACET QUÆRIS SI TURBA PIORUM,
CORPORA SANCTORUM RETINENT VENERANDA SEPULCHRA,
SUBLIMES ANIMAS RAPUIT SIBI REGIA CŒLI:
HIC COMITES XYSTI PORTANT QUI EX HOSTE TROPÆA;
HIC NUMERUS PROCERUM SERVAT QUI ALTARIA CHRISTI;
HIC POSITUS LONGA VIXIT QUI IN PACE SACERDOS;
HIC CONFESSORES SANCTI QUOS GRÆCIA MISIT;
HIC JUVENES, PUERIQUE, SENES CASTIQUE NEPOTES,
QUÏS MAGE VIRGINEUM PLACUIT RETINERE PUDOREM.
HIC FATEOR DAMASUS VOLUI MEA CONDERE MEMBRA,
SED CINERES TIMUI SANCTOS VEXARE PIORUM.
“Here, if you would know, lie heaped together a whole crowd of saints.
These honoured sepulchres enclose their bodies,
Their noble souls the palace of Heaven has taken to itself.
Here lie the companions of Xystus, who triumphed over the enemy;
Here a number of rulers, who keep the altars of Christ;
Here is buried the Bishop, who lived in a long peace;
Here the holy Confessors whom Greece sent us;
Here lie youths and boys, old men, and their chaste relatives,
Who chose, as the better part, to keep their virgin chastity.
Here I, Damasus, confess I wished to lay my bones,
But I feared to disturb the holy ashes of the saints.”
The first lines of this inscription seem to allude to a number of martyrs
laid together in one large tomb, such as we know from other witnesses
were sometimes to be seen in the Roman Catacombs. The poet Prudentius,
for instance, supposes a friend to ask him the names of those who have
shed their blood for the faith in Rome, and the epitaphs inscribed on
their tombs. He replies that it would be very difficult to tell this,
for that “the relics of the saints in Rome are innumerable, since as
long as the city continued to worship their Pagan gods, their wicked
rage slew vast multitudes of the just. On many tombs, indeed,” he says,
“you may read the name of the martyr, and some short inscription; but
there are many others which are silent as to the name, and only express
the number. You can ascertain the number which lie heaped up together
(_congestis corpora acervis_), but nothing more;” and he specifies one
grave in particular, in which he learnt that the relics of sixty martyrs
had been laid, but their names were known only to Christ. To some such
_polyandrium_, then, the words of Pope Damasus would seem to allude, and
the martyrologies and other ancient documents speak of three or four such
tombs “near St. Cecilia’s;” and here in this very chamber, just where (as
we shall presently see) it touches the crypt of St. Cecilia, we can still
recognise a pit of unusual size and depth, intended apparently for the
reception of many bodies, or perhaps only of the charred remains of many
bodies; for, where the victims were numerous, the capital sentence was
not unfrequently executed by fire.
Of the martyrdom of St. Sixtus we have already spoken as having taken
place in the Catacomb of Pretextatus (page 31), but his body was brought
here to be laid with those of his predecessors. Pope Damasus only
mentions his deacons, and not St. Sixtus himself, because he had composed
another set of verses in honour of the holy Pontiff alone, and had set
them up in this same crypt. It is easy to see where they were placed,
above and behind the altar, and a copy of them has been preserved to us
by ancient pilgrims and scholars. Scarcely a dozen letters of them,
however, were found when the chapel was cleared out in 1854; they have
not, therefore, been restored to their place, and need not be reproduced
in this manual.
The _numerus procerum_ in the fifth line of our present inscription are,
of course, the Popes whose epitaphs we have seen, and others who were
buried here; nor can we fail to recognise in the Bishop who enjoyed a
long life of peace Pope Melchiades, who lived when the persecutions
had ended. Finally, we have heard the story of some at least of “the
holy confessors who came from Greece,” Hippolytus Maria and Neo, Adrias
and Paulina (page 37); and the _arenarium_ in which these martyrs were
buried was in the immediate neighbourhood of the Papal crypt which we are
describing.
CHAPTER II.
THE CRYPT OF ST. CECILIA.
A narrow doorway, cut somewhat irregularly through the rock in the corner
of the Papal Crypt, introduces us into another chamber. As we pass
through this doorway we observe that the sides were once covered with
slabs of marble, and the arch over our heads adorned with mosaics. The
chamber itself is much larger than that which we have left behind us.
It is nearly 20 feet square (the other had been only 14 by 11); it is
irregular in shape; it has a wide _luminare_ over it, completely flooding
it with light, and at the other end of it is a large portico, supported
by arches of brick. Yet we see no altar-tomb, no contemporary epitaphs
of popes or martyrs, nor indeed anything else which at once engages our
attention and promises to give us valuable information. Nevertheless, a
more careful examination will soon detect paintings and scribblings on
the walls not inferior in interest to any that are to be seen elsewhere.
We shall hardly appreciate them, however, as they deserve, unless we
first briefly call to mind the history of the relics of St. Cecilia,
before whose tomb we are.
We shall take it for granted that our readers are familiar with the
history of the Saint’s martyrdom and pass on to the first discovery of
her relics in the ninth century. Pope Paschal I. succeeded to the see
of Peter in January A.D. 817, and in the following July he translated
into different churches within the city the relics of 2300 martyrs,
collected from the various suburban cemeteries, which, as we have seen,
were lying at that time in a deplorable state of ruin. Amongst the relics
thus removed were those of the popes from the Papal Crypt we have just
visited. His cotemporary biographer, writing in the _Liber Pontificalis_
tells us that Paschal had wished to remove at the same time the body
of St. Cecilia, which the Acts of her martyrdom assured him had been
buried by Pope Urban “near to his own colleagues;” but he could not find
it; so at length he reluctantly acquiesced in the report that it had
been carried off by Astulfus, the Lombard king, by whom Rome had been
besieged, and the cemeteries plundered. Some four years afterwards,
however, St. Cecilia appeared to him in a dream or vision, as he was
assisting at matins in the Vatican Basilica, and told him that when he
was translating the bodies of the popes she was so close to him that they
might have conversed together. In consequence of this vision he returned
to the search, and found the body where he had been told. It was fresh
and perfect as when it was first laid in the tomb, and clad in rich
garments wrought with gold, lying in a cypress coffin, with linen cloths
stained with blood rolled up at her feet.
It is not essential to our history, yet it may be worth while to add that
Paschal tells us he lined the coffin with fringed silk, spread over the
body a covering of silk gauze, and then, placing it within a sarcophagus
of white marble, deposited it under the high altar of the Church of Sta.
Cecilia in Trastevere, where it was rediscovered nearly eight hundred
years afterwards (A.D. 1599) by the titular cardinal of the Church, and
exposed to the veneration of the faithful for a period of four or five
weeks. All visitors to Rome have seen and admired Maderna’s beautiful
statue of the saint; but not all take sufficient notice of the legend
which he has inserted around it, testifying that he was one of those who
had seen her lying incorrupt in her coffin, and that he has reproduced
her in marble, in the very same posture in which he saw her.
[Illustration: _Maderna’s Statue of St. Cecilia._]
We have said that the Acts of the Saint’s martyrdom assert that Pope
Urban had buried her near to his own colleagues. The itineraries of
ancient pilgrims mention her grave, either immediately before, or
immediately after, those of the Popes. Finally, Pope Paschal says that
he found her body close to the place whence he had withdrawn the bodies
of his predecessors. Are these topographical notices true or false? This
is the question which must have agitated the mind of De Rossi when he
discovered this chamber so immediately contiguous to that in which he
had learnt for certain that the Popes had been buried; or rather—for his
own conviction upon this subject had been already formed—would there
be anything in the chamber itself to confirm his conclusion, and to
establish it to the satisfaction of others? We may imagine with what
eagerness he desired to penetrate it. But this could not be done at once.
The chapel was full of earth, even to the very top of the _luminare_, and
all this soil must first be removed, through the _luminare_ itself. As
the work of excavation proceeded, there came to light first, on the wall
of the _luminare_, the figure of a woman in the usual attitude of prayer,
but so indistinct as to baffle all attempts at identification. Below this
there appeared a Latin cross between two sheep, which may still be seen,
though these also are much faded. Still lower down the wall—the wall,
that is, of the _luminare_, not of the chamber itself—we come upon the
figures of three saints, executed apparently in the fourth, or perhaps
even the fifth century; but they are all of men; and as their names
inscribed at the side show no trace of any connection with the history
of St. Cecilia, we will postpone what we have to say about them for the
present, and proceed with our work of clearance of the whole chamber.
As we come nearer to the floor, we find upon the wall, close to the
entrance from the burial-place of the popes, a painting which may be
attributed, perhaps, to the seventh century, of a woman, richly attired,
with pearls hanging from her ears and entwined in her hair, necklaces and
bracelets of pearls and gold; a white dress covered with a pink tunic
ornamented with gold and silver flowers, and large roses springing out
of the ground by her feet. Everything about the painting is rich, and
bright, and gay, such as an artist of the seventh century might picture
to himself that a Roman bride, of wealth and noble family, like St.
Cecilia, ought to have been. Below this figure we come to a niche, such
as is found in other parts of the Catacombs, to receive the large shallow
vessels of oil, or precious unguents, which, in ancient times, were used
to feed the lamps burning before the tombs of the martyrs. At the back
of this niche is a large head of our Lord, represented according to the
Byzantine type, and with rays of glory behind it in the form of a Greek
cross. Side by side with this, but on the flat surface of the wall, is a
figure of a bishop, in full pontifical dress, with his name inscribed, S.
VRBANVS.
[Illustration: _Crypt of St. Cecilia._]
Examination of these paintings shows that they were not the original
ornaments of the place. The painting of St. Cecilia was executed on the
surface of ruined mosaic work, portions of which may still be easily
detected towards the bottom of the picture. The niche, too, in which
our Lord’s head is painted bears evident traces of having once been
encased with porphyry, and both it and the figure of St. Urban are so
rudely done, that they might have been executed as late as the tenth or
eleventh century. Probably they belong to the age of the translation of
the relics—_i.e._, the ninth century. A half-obliterated scroll or tablet
by the side of the figure of St. Urban states that it was intended as an
ornament to the martyr’s sepulchre—DECORI SEPULCRI S. CÆCILIÆ MARTYRIS.
When we add that immediately by the side of these paintings is a deep
recess in the wall, capable of receiving a large sarcophagus, and that
between the back of this recess and the back of one of the papal graves
in the adjoining chamber, there is scarcely an inch of rock, we think the
most sceptical of critics will confess that the old traditions are very
remarkably confirmed.
It will be asked, however, if this is really the place where St. Cecilia
was buried, and if Paschal really visited the adjoining chapel, how is
it possible that he could have had any difficulty in finding her tomb?
To this we reply, first, by reminding our readers of the condition in
which the Catacombs were at that time: these translations of relics were
being made, because the cemeteries in which they lay were utterly ruined.
But, secondly, it is very possible that the doorway, or the recess, or
both, may have been walled up or otherwise concealed, for the express
purpose of baffling the search of the sacrilegious Lombards. Nor is this
mere conjecture. Among the _débris_ of this spot De Rossi has found
several fragments of a wall, too thin ever to have been used as a means
of support, but manifestly serviceable as a curtain of concealment; and,
although, with that perfect candour and truthfulness which so enhances
all his other merits, he adds that these fragments bear tokens of
belonging to a later date, this does not prove that there had not been
another wall of the same kind at an earlier period; for he is able to
quote from his own discoveries the instance of an _arcosolium_ in another
Catacomb, which was thus carefully concealed in very ancient times by the
erection of a wall. However, be the true explanation of this difficulty
what it may, our ignorance on this subject cannot be allowed to outweigh
the explicit testimony of Paschal and the other ancient witnesses now so
abundantly confirmed by modern discoveries.
But it may be objected yet once more, that there is an inscription in
the Catacomb under the Basilica of St. Sebastian, more than a quarter of
a mile off, which states that St. Cecilia was buried there. Most true,
but consider the date of the inscription. It was set up by William de
Bois-Ratier, Archbishop of Bourges, in the year 1609; and there are other
inscriptions hard by, of the same or of a later date, which claim for
the same locality the tombs of several popes, as well as of thousands of
martyrs. The inscriptions were set up precisely during that age in which
the Catacombs were buried in the most profound darkness and oblivion.
We have already explained (page 50) how it came to pass that whilst the
other ancient cemeteries were inaccessible and unknown, this one under
the Church of St. Sebastian still remained partially open; and we can
heartily sympathise with the religious feelings which prompted the good
Archbishop and others to make an appeal to the devotion of the faithful
not to lose the memory of those glorious martyrs who had certainly been
buried in a Catacomb on this road, and at no great distance, yet not in
this particular spot. But whilst we admire their piety, we cannot bow to
their authority upon a topographical question, which they had no means
of deciding, and in respect to which recent discoveries, as well as the
testimony of more ancient documents, prove to a demonstration that they
were certainly wrong.
Dismissing, then, all these objections, which it was quite right and
reasonable to raise, but which, on critical examination, entirely
disappear, we may rest assured that we have here certainly recovered the
original resting-place of one of the most ancient and famous of Rome’s
virgin saints. Let us take one more look round the crypt before we leave
it. If we examine the picture of the saint more closely, we shall find
it defaced by a number of _graffiti_, which may be divided into two
classes; the one class quite irregular, both as to place and style of
writing, consisting only of the names of pilgrims who had visited the
shrine, several of whom were not Romans but foreigners. Thus, one is
named Hildebrandus, another Lupo, another is a Bishop Ethelred, and two
write themselves down Spaniards. But the other class of _graffiti_ is
quite regular, arranged in four lines, and contains almost exclusively
the names of priests; the only exceptions being that one woman appears
amongst them, but it is added that she is the mother of the priest (Leo)
who signs before her, and that the last signature of all is that of a
_scriniarius_, or secretary. There is something about this arrangement
of names which suggests the idea of an official act; neither can it
be attributed to chance that several of the same names (including the
unusual name of Mercurius, and written too in the same peculiar style,
a mixture of square and of cursive letters) appear on the painting of
St. Cornelius, presently to be visited in a catacomb under this same
vineyard, whence his body was translated some thirty or forty years
before St. Cecilia’s. In both cases these priests probably signed as
witnesses of the translation.
It only remains that we should fulfil our promise to say a word or two
about those saints whose names and figures we saw in the _luminare_. They
are three in number, St. Sebastian, St. Cyrinus, and St. Polycamus. We
know of no other Sebastian that can be meant here but the famous martyr,
whose basilica we have mentioned before as being not far off. Cyrinus,
or Quirinus, was Bishop of Siscia in Illyria, and martyr. In the days of
Prudentius his body lay in his own city, but when Illyria was invaded
by the barbarians it was brought to Rome and buried in the Basilica of
St. Sebastian about the year 420. Of Polycamus the history is altogether
lost; neither ecclesiastical historians nor martyrologists have left us
any record of his life. We know, however, from the Itineraries of the
old pilgrims that there was the tomb of one Polycamus, a martyr, near
that of St. Cecilia, and the same name appears among the martyrs whose
relics were removed from the Catacombs to the churches within the city.
It would seem then that the figures of these three saints were painted
in the _luminare_ of this chamber, only because they were saints to
whom there was much devotion, and whose relics were lying at no great
distance.
CHAPTER III.
THE CRYPT OF ST. EUSEBIUS.
From the crypt of St. Cecilia we pass through a modern opening in
one of its walls to a short gallery which leads to the sacramental
chapels—_i.e._, to those chambers whose walls are decorated with a
remarkable series of paintings having reference to the Sacraments of
Baptism and the Holy Eucharist. These paintings, however, having been
sufficiently described and commented upon in another place, we may take
our leave of this first area of the Cemetery of Callixtus, and, ascending
a short staircase, pass on through the broken wall of a chamber into a
wide and lofty gallery, which brings us presently to the chief object
of interest in the second area—viz., the crypt of St. Eusebius, Pope,
A.D. 310. Just before we reach it, we shall see on our left hand the
staircase by which it was anciently arrived at; and if we stop here for
a moment and look around us, we shall recognise an example of what has
been already mentioned, the exemplary care and prudence with which the
pilgrims of old were guided in their subterranean visits. Walls were
built, blocking up all paths but the right one, so that they should not
go astray or lose themselves in the labyrinth which surrounded them.
They must needs go forward till they arrived at two chapels, which stood
opposite to one another on different sides of the gallery.
One of these chambers was about 9 feet by 12, the other considerably
larger, 16 by 13. The one had evidently been the chief object of
devotion; the other was added for the convenience of the worshippers.
The smaller one had an arcosolium on each side as well as at the end,
the one opposite the door being the most important of the three; and
all of these tombs were once ornamented with mosaics and paintings,
and the walls of the chamber with marble. All is now sadly ruined; but
it is still possible to distinguish among the remains of the mosaic
work over the principal arcosolium traces of a very common Christian
symbol, a double-handed vessel, with a bird on either side of it; also
certain winged figures, which probably represent the seasons, and a few
other accessories of ornament; but the main figures and general design
have perished. The walls of the opposite chamber were never cased with
marble, so that the pilgrims were able to leave here the same tokens
of their visits as they left at St. Sixtus’. The _graffiti_ are of the
same general character, but of a somewhat later date; the old forms
of prayer have disappeared; most of the names and inscriptions are in
Latin; and among the few that are Greek, there are symptoms of Byzantine
peculiarities.
The chief object of interest, however, now remaining in these chambers is
the epitaph which stands in the middle of the smaller room. Of course,
this was not its original position; but it has been so placed, in order
that we may see both sides of the stone without difficulty, for both are
inscribed. The stone was originally used for an inscription in honour
of Caracalla, belonging to the year 214. The Christian inscription
on the other side professes to have been set up by “Damasus, Bishop,
to Eusebius, Bishop and Martyr,” and to have been written by Furius
Dionysius Filocalus, “a worshipper (_cultor_) and lover of Pope Damasus.”
But it is easy to see at a glance that it never was really executed
by the same hand to which we are indebted for so many other beautiful
productions of that Pope. At first, therefore, and whilst only a few
fragments of this inscription had been recovered, De Rossi was tempted to
conjecture that it might be one of the earliest efforts of the artist who
subsequently attained such perfection. At length, however, the difficulty
was solved in a more sure and satisfactory way. A diligent search in
the earth with which the chamber was filled brought to light several
fragments of the original stone, on which the letters are executed with
the same faultlessness as on the other specimens of its class. The
visitor to the Catacombs may see them painted, in a different colour
from the rest, in the copy of the epitaph which De Rossi has caused to
be affixed to the wall; and he will observe that amongst them are some
letters which are wanting in the more ancient copy transcribed on the
reverse of Caracalla’s monument. It is clear that the original must have
been broken in pieces, by the Lombards or other ancient plunderers of the
Catacombs, and that the copy which we now see is one of the restorations
by Pope Vigilus or some other Pontiff about that time (page 47). The
copyist was so ignorant that he could only transcribe the letters which
were on the spot before his eyes, and, even when he was conscious that a
letter was missing, he could only leave a vacant space, being doubtful
how it should be supplied. Witness the space left for the first letter of
_Domino_ in the penultimate line of the inscription, and the word _in_
altogether omitted in the third line.
D DAMASUS EPISCOPUS FECIT F
A V
M R
A I
S HERACLIUS VETUIT LABSOS PECCATA DOLERE, V
I S
P D
A EUSEBIUS MISEROS DOCUIT SUA CRIMINA FLERE; I
P O
P N
A SCINDITUR IN PARTES POPULUS, GLISCENTE FURORE; Y
E S
C I
V SEDITIO, CÆDES, BELLUM, DISCORDIA, LITES; V
L S
T F
O I
R EXTEMPLO PARITER PULSI FERITATE TYRANNI, L
A O
T C
Q INTEGRA CUM RECTOR SERVARET FŒDERA PACIS. A
V L
E V
A PERTULIT EXILIUM DOMINO SUB JUDICE LÆTUS S
M S
A C
T R
O LITORE TRINACRIO MUNDUM VITAMQUE RELIQUIT. I
R B
S
EUSEBIO EPISCOPO ET MARTYRI. I
T
“Heraclius forbad those who had fallen away [in times of persecution]
to grieve for their sins.
But Eusebius taught those unhappy men to weep for their crimes.
The people are divided into parties; fury increases;
Sedition, murder, fighting, quarrelling, and strife.
Presently both [the Pope and the heretic] are exiled by the cruelty
of the tyrant,
Although the Pope was preserving the bonds of peace inviolate.
He bore his exile with joy, looking to the Lord as his Judge.
And on the shore of Sicily gave up the world and his life.”
Having sufficiently considered the _form_ of the inscription, let us now
say a few words about its _substance_, which is important, because it
restores to us a lost chapter of Church history. Every student knows how
keenly contested in the early ages of the Church was the question as to
the discipline to be observed towards those Christians who relapsed into
an outward profession of Paganism under the pressure of persecution.
There were some who would fain close the door of reconciliation
altogether against these unhappy men (_miseri_), whilst others claimed
for them restitution of all Christian privileges before they had brought
forth worthy fruits of penance.
The question arose whenever a persecution followed after a long term of
peace; for during such a time men’s minds were specially apt to decline
from primitive fervour, and the number of the lapsed to increase. We
are not surprised, therefore, to find the question agitated during the
persecution of Decius in the middle of the third century. There is still
extant a touching letter, written to St. Cyprian by the clergy of Rome at
a time when the Holy See was vacant after the martyrdom of St. Fabian,
which clearly defines the tradition and practice of the Church. In it
they say that absolution was freely given to those of the lapsed who are
in danger of death, but to others only when wholesome penance has been
exacted; and they declare that “they have left nothing undone that the
perverse may not boast of their being too easy, nor the true penitents
accuse them of inflexible cruelty.” The same question arose under the
same circumstances in the persecution of Diocletian. Pope Marcellus was
firm in upholding the Church’s discipline, but he was resisted with such
violence that public order was disturbed in the city by the strife of
contending factions, and the Pope was banished by order of the Emperor
Maxentius. This we learn from another inscription of Pope Damasus, who
says that he wrote it in order that the faithful might not be ignorant
of the merit of the holy Pontiff. Eusebius was the immediate successor
of Marcellus, and the epitaph now before us is clearly a continuation
of the same history, ending in the same punishment of the Pope, as the
reward of his contention for the liberties of the Church. For it should
be remembered that these Popes were driven from their see and died in
exile, not because they refused to apostatize, but because they insisted
on maintaining the integrity of ecclesiastical discipline. They may
justly be reckoned, therefore, among the earliest of that noble army of
martyrs, who, from those days even to our own, have braved every danger
rather than consent to govern the Church in accordance with other than
the Church’s rules.
It yet remains to make two further remarks upon the epitaph of Pope
Eusebius before we leave it. The first is, that he is called a martyr,
though it nowhere appears that he really shed his blood; but this is
by no means the only instance in which the title of martyr is given in
ancient documents to men who have suffered for the faith and died whilst
those sufferings continued. And secondly, it is to be observed that
although we have no record of the translation of the body of St. Eusebius
from Sicily to Rome, there is no reason to doubt the fact. All the
earliest monuments speak of him as buried in a crypt of the Cemetery of
St. Callixtus, and although the law forbad the translation of the bodies
of those who had died in exile unless the emperor’s permission had been
previously obtained, the old lawyers tell us that this permission was
freely given. Numerous examples teach us the great anxiety of the ancient
churches to have their bishops buried in the midst of them; no doubt,
therefore, the necessary permission was asked for, as soon as a change in
the imperial policy towards the Church made it possible; and the body of
St. Eusebius was recovered and brought to Rome soon after his death, just
as that of one of his predecessors, St. Pontian, had been brought from
Sardinia by St. Fabian.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TOMB OF ST. CORNELIUS.
We have not promised to conduct the visitor to everything that is worth
seeing in this cemetery, but only to enumerate and explain the principal
monuments of historical importance which every stranger usually sees. And
the only specimen of this class which remains to be spoken of is the tomb
of St. Cornelius, which lies some way off. In order to reach it we must
traverse a vast network of galleries, narrow and irregular, connecting
what were once independent cemeteries, or at least were _areæ_ added at
various times to the Cemetery of Callixtus. If our guide is not in too
great haste, he may allow us to step aside into two or three chambers by
the way, in which are certain objects of interest worth looking at. The
first is a long inscription belonging to the last decade of the third
century, in which the Deacon Severus records that he has obtained leave
from the Pope Marcellinus to make a double chamber, with _arcosolia_
and a _luminare_, in which himself and his family may have quiet
graves (_mansionem in pace quietam_). This is in the third area of the
cemetery, next to the area in which we visited the crypt of St. Eusebius.
In the adjoining area, and belonging probably to the same date, is a very
curious fresco, much damaged by having been cut through for the sake of
making a grave behind it, yet still easily distinguishable in all its
main features. The Good Shepherd occupies the centre of the painting. On
either side is an apostle, probably SS. Peter and Paul, hastening away
from Christ, Who has sent them to go and teach all nations. These are
represented by two sheep standing before each of the apostles; and over
their heads hangs a rock, whence pour down streams of water, which the
apostles are receiving in their hands and turning on the heads of the
sheep. We need no special explanation of this; we have already learnt
that the Rock is Christ, and that the waters represent all Christian
graces and sacraments. But what is worth noticing in this picture is
the various attitudes of the sheep, and the corresponding distribution
of the water. A perfect torrent is falling on the animal that stands
with outstretched neck and head uplifted, drinking in all he hears with
simplicity and eagerness; whilst another, which has turned its back upon
the apostle, is left without any water at all. Of the other two, one is
standing with head downcast, as if in doubt and perplexity, and upon him
too grace is still being poured out more abundantly than upon the fourth,
which is eating grass, _i.e._, occupied with the affairs of this world.
On the right hand side of this _arcosolium_ are two representations
of Moses; in the one he is striking the rock, and one of the Jews is
catching some of the water which gushes forth; in the other he is taking
off his shoes, preparing to obey the summons of God, who is represented
by a hand coming forth from the cloud. The painting on the other side of
the _arcosolium_ is even more defaced than that in the centre. A large
semi-circular recess has been cut through it, and then the smoke of the
lamp which burnt in this recess during the fourth and fifth centuries has
almost obliterated the little that remained of the figure of our Lord. He
stood between two of His apostles, who are offering Him bread and fish,
and six baskets of loaves stand on the ground before them.
And now we will not linger any more upon the road, but follow our guide,
who hurries forward along the intricate passages until he lands us
at last in an irregularly shaped space, illuminated by a _luminare_,
decorated with paintings, and bearing manifest tokens of having been once
a great centre of devotion. There is the pillar to support the usual
vessel of oil or more precious unguents to be burnt before the tomb of
the martyr; and hard by is a gravestone let into the wall with the words
CORNELIUS MARTYR, EP.
The stone does not close one of the common graves such as are seen in
the walls of the galleries or of the _cubicula_, neither is the grave
an ordinary _arcosolium_. The lower part of it, indeed, resembles an
_arcosolium_ inasmuch as it is large enough to contain three or four
bodies, but there is no arch over it. The opening is rectangular, not
circular, and yet there is no trace of any slab having been let into
the wall to cover the top of the grave. It is probable, therefore, that
a sarcophagus once filled the vacant space, and that the top of this
sarcophagus served as the _mensa_ or altar, an arrangement of which other
examples have been found.
But how came Pope Cornelius to be buried here, and not with his
predecessors in the Papal Crypt? He was Pope, A.D. 250, between Fabian
and Lucius, both of whom were buried, as we have seen, in that crypt.
It is to be observed, however, that Cornelius is the only Pope, during
the first three centuries, who bore the name of a noble Roman family;
and many ancient epitaphs have been found in the area round this tomb,
of persons who belonged to the same family. It is obvious, therefore, to
conjecture that this sepulchre was the private property of some branch
of the Gens Cornelia. The public Cemetery of St. Callixtus may have been
closed at this time by order of the Government; but even without such a
reason, it may have been the wish of the family that the Pope should not
be separated in burial from the rest of his race. The same circumstance
would account for the epitaph being written in Latin, not in Greek,
for many of the old patrician families clung to the language of their
forefathers long after the use of Greek had come into fashion; and this
departure from the official language of the Church (for such, in fact,
Greek really was at that time) is quite of a piece with the preference of
the domestic to the official burial-place.
But whatever may be the true explanation of these circumstances, the
fact is at least certain that Cornelius was buried here; and above and
below the opening of his tomb are fragments, still adhering to the wall,
of large slabs of marble, containing a few letters of what were once
important inscriptions. The upper inscription was unquestionably the
work of Damasus. The letters of the lower, though closely resembling
the Damasine type, yet present a few points of difference—sufficient to
warrant the conjecture of De Rossi that they were executed by the same
hand, but with slight variations, in order to mark that it belonged to
another series of monuments. We subjoin a copy of both inscriptions, in
the form in which De Rossi believes them to have been originally written.
In the first inscription the difference of type will distinguish the
earlier half of each line, which is a conjectural restoration, from the
latter half which still remains _in situ_; and in estimating the degree
of probability of the restorations, the reader should bear in mind two
things: _first_, that the Damasine inscriptions were engraved with such
mathematical precision that no emendations are admissible which would
materially increase or diminish the number of letters in each line; and
_secondly_, that whereas Damasus was in the habit of repeating himself
very frequently in his epitaphs, several of De Rossi’s restorations are
mere literal reproductions of some of his favourite forms of speech.
Had the following epitaph been found in some ancient MS., and there
attributed to Pope Damasus, we are confident that no critic would have
seen reason to doubt its genuineness:—
ASPICE, DESCENSU EXSTRUCTO TENEBRISQUE FUGATIS,
CORNELI MONUMENTA VIDES TUMULUMQUE SACRATUM.
HOC OPUS ÆGROTI DAMASI PRÆSTANTIA FECIT,
ESSET UT ACCESSUS MELIOR, POPULISQUE PARATUM
AUXILIUM SANCTI, ET VALEAS SI FUNDERE PURO
CORDE PRECES, DAMASUS MELIOR CONSURGERE POSSET,
QUEM NON LUCIS AMOR, TENUIT MAGE CURA LABORIS.
“Behold, a new staircase having been made, and the darkness put
to flight,
You see the monuments of Cornelius and his sacred tomb.
This work the zeal of Damasus has accomplished, at a time when he
was sick;
That so the means of approach might be better, and the aid of the
saint
Put more within the reach of the people; and that if you pour forth
prayers
From a pure heart, Damasus may rise up in better health;
Though it has not been love of life, but rather anxiety for work,
that has retained him in this life.”
The second inscription De Rossi would restore as follows:—
SIRICIUS PERFECIT OPUS,
CONCLUSIT ET ARCAM
MARMORE, CORNELI QUONIAM
PIA MEMBRA RETENTAT
—that is to say, he supposes that, Damasus having died, his successor
Siricius completed the work that had been begun, and, furthermore,
strengthened the wall which enclosed the tomb of St. Cornelius with this
very thick slab of marble—a work which may have been rendered necessary
by the alterations already made by Damasus. Of course, these restorations
of the mutilated inscriptions must always remain more or less doubtful,
for we fear there is no chance of any other fragments of the original
ever coming to light. We publish them under the same reserve with which
he himself proposes them, as at least approximations to the truth. He
says that, without daring to affirm their literal correctness, there are
certainly strong reasons for believing that they exactly reproduce the
sense of the original.
This same tomb of St. Cornelius will supply us with an example of De
Rossi’s power of happy conjecture, confirmed with absolute certainty by
subsequent discoveries. He had often publicly expressed his confident
expectation of finding at this tomb of St. Cornelius some memorial of
his cotemporary, St. Cyprian. These two saints were martyred on the same
day, though in different years; and their feasts were, therefore, always
celebrated together, just as they are now, on the 16th of September, all
the liturgical prayers for the day being common to both. Now, De Rossi
had found in one of the old Itineraries, to whose accuracy of detail he
had been greatly indebted, an extraordinary misstatement, viz., that the
bodies of both these saints rested together in the same catacomb, whereas
everybody knows that St. Cyprian was buried in Africa. He conjectured,
therefore, that the pilgrim had been led into this blunder by something
he had seen at the tomb of St. Cornelius. On its rediscovery, the cause
of the error stands at once revealed. Immediately on the right hand side
of the grave are two large figures of bishops painted on the wall, with
a legend by the side of each, declaring them to be St. Cornelius and St.
Cyprian.
On the other side of the tomb is another painting, executed in the same
style, on the wall at the end of the gallery: two figures of bishops,
again designated by their proper names and titles. Only one of these can
now be deciphered, S̅C̅S̅ XUSTUS P̅P̅ R̅O̅M̅, _i.e._, Pope Sixtus II.,
of whose connection with this cemetery we have already heard so often.
The other name began with an O, and was probably St. Optatus, an African
bishop and martyr, whose body had been brought to Rome and buried in this
cemetery.
These paintings are manifestly a late work: perhaps they were executed
in the days of Leo III., A.D. 795-815, of whom it is recorded in the
_Liber Pontificalis_, that “he renewed the Cemetery of Sts. Sixtus and
Cornelius on the Appian Way;” and the legend which runs round them would
have a special significance as the motto of one who had been almost
miraculously delivered out of the hands of his enemies by the Emperor
Charlemagne. It is taken from the 17th verse of the 58th Psalm: “Ego
autem cantabo virtutem Tuam et exaltabo misericordiam Tuam quia factus
es et susceptor meus.”... “I will sing Thy strength, and will extol Thy
mercy, for Thou art become my support.” Of course, this had not been the
earliest ornamentation of these walls. Even now, we can detect traces
of a more ancient painting, and of _graffiti_ upon it, underlying this
later work. The _graffiti_ are only the names of priests and deacons, who
either came here to offer the holy sacrifice, or perhaps to take part in
the translation of the relics: “_Leo prb._, _Theodorus prb._, _Kiprianus
Diaconus_,” &c.
We are drawing very near to the end of our subterranean walk: indeed,
the staircase which is to restore us to the upper air close to the
very entrance of the vineyard is immediately behind us, as we stand
contemplating the tomb of St. Cornelius. Nevertheless, if we are not
too weary, nor our guide too impatient, we should do well to resist the
temptation to escape, until we have first visited two small chambers
which are in the immediate neighbourhood. They contain some of the most
ancient specimens of painting to be found in the whole range of the
Catacombs. The ceilings are divided into circles and other geometrical
figures, and then the spaces are filled up with graceful arabesques,
birds, and flowers, peacocks, and dancing genii. It was the sight of
such paintings as these which led the Protestant writer quoted in a
former chapter to express an opinion that, on first entering some of the
decorated chambers in the Catacombs, it is not easy to determine whether
the work is Christian or Pagan. Here, indeed, the Good Shepherd in one
centre and Daniel between two lions in the other soon solve the doubt;
but all the other details and the excellence of their execution may well
have suggested it. No one can doubt that the paintings belong to the very
earliest period of Christian art, when the forms and traditions of the
classical age had not yet died away.
In the first of the two chambers we are speaking of, there is nothing
special to be seen besides the ceiling; but the second and more distant
is more richly decorated. Here, two sepulchral chambers open one into the
other: over the doorway which admits to the inner vault is represented
the Baptism of our Lord by St. John: He is coming up out of the water and
the dove is descending upon Him. On the wall opposite to the entrance is
that fish carrying the basket of bread and wine that has been already
described (page 81). On the wall to the left is a pail of milk standing
on a kind of altar between two sheep, and we know from St. Irenæus and
from some of the earliest and most authentic acts of the martyrs that
milk was an accepted symbol of the Holy Eucharist. Opposite to this
are doves and trees, which are often used as types of the souls of the
blessed in Paradise. Thus, on one side we have the faithful on earth
standing around the Divine food which prepares for heaven; and on the
other, souls released from the prison of the body have flown away and are
at rest, reposing amid the joys of another world; so that it would almost
seem as though the same sequence of ideas presided over the decoration
of these chambers, as was certainly present to the minds of those who
designed the ornamentation of the sacramental chambers in the Cemetery of
St. Callixtus (page 84).
And now at length we must conclude our visit to St. Callixtus. We fear
that we have already enumerated more than can be seen with advantage
during the course of a single visit; yet it is worth an effort to see
it all, because it includes monuments which illustrate nearly every
century of the period during which the Catacombs were used. It is for
this reason that a visit to St. Callixtus is so singularly valuable,
whether it be intended to take this cemetery as a sample of all, or only
to use it as an introduction to others. Those who propose to pursue the
subject further would do well to visit next the Catacomb of SS. Nereus
and Achilles, which lies at no great distance, off the Via Ardeatina;
then the Cemetery of Pretextatus on the other side of the Via Appia; and
finally, the _Cœmeterium Ostrianum_ on the Via Nomentana. When these
have been carefully examined, there will still remain many interesting
monuments, of considerable historical importance, in other less famous
cemeteries; but enough will have been seen to give an excellent general
acquaintance with the main characteristics of Roma Sotterranea.
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