WHAT DIOGENES DID TELL ABOUT THE CATACOMBS.
All that we have told our readers of the first period of the history of
subterranean Rome, as ecclesiastical antiquarians love to call the
catacombs, has no doubt been better related by Diogenes to his youthful
hearers, as, taper in hand, they have been slowly walking through a long
straight gallery, crossed, indeed, by many others, but adhered to
faithfully; with sundry pauses, and, of course, lectures, embodying what
we have put together in our prosaic second chapter.
At length Diogenes turned to the right, and Torquatus looked around him
anxiously.
“I wonder,” he said, “how many turns we have passed by, before leaving
this main gallery?”
“A great many,” answered Severus, drily.
“How many do you think, ten or twenty?”
“Full that, I fancy; for I never have counted them.”
Torquatus had, however; but wished to make sure. He continued, still
pausing:
“How do you distinguish the right turn, then? Oh, what is this?” and he
pretended to examine a small niche in the corner. But Severus kept too
sharp a look-out, and saw that he was making a mark in the sand.
“Come, come along,” he said, “or we shall lose sight of the rest, and
not see which way they turn. That little niche is to hold a lamp; you
will find one at each angle. As to ourselves, we know every alley and
turn here below, as you do those of the city above.”
[Illustration: A Lamp with a representation of the Good Shepherd, found
at Ostium prior to the third century. From Roller’s “Catacombes.”]
Torquatus was somewhat reassured by this account of the lamps--those
little earthen ones, evidently made on purpose for the catacombs, of
which so many are there found. But not content, he kept as good count as
he could of the turns, as they went; and now with one excuse, and now
with another, he constantly stopped, and scrutinized particular spots
and corners. But Severus had a lynx’s eye upon him, and allowed nothing
to escape his attention.
At last they entered a doorway, and found themselves in a square
chamber, richly adorned with paintings.
“What do you call this?” asked Tiburtius.
“It is one of the many crypts, or _cubicula_,[101] which abound in our
cemeteries,” answered Diogenes; “sometimes they are merely family
sepultures, but generally they contain the tomb of some martyr, on whose
anniversary we meet here. See that tomb opposite us, which, though flush
with the wall, is arched over. That becomes, on such an occasion, the
altar whereon the Divine mysteries are celebrated. You are of course
aware of the custom of so performing them.”
[Illustration: Cubiculum or Crypt, as found in the Catacombs.]
“Perhaps my two friends,” interposed Pancratius, “so recently baptized,
may not have heard it; but I know it well. It is surely one of the
glorious privileges of martyrdom, to have the Lord’s sacred Body and
precious Blood offered upon one’s ashes, and to repose thus under the
very feet of God.[102] But let us see well the paintings all over this
crypt.”
[Illustration: The Last Supper. From a picture in the Cemetery of St.
Callistus.]
“It is on account of them that I brought you into this chamber, in
preference to so many others in the cemetery. It is one of the most
ancient, and contains a most complete series of pictures, from the
remotest times down to some of my son’s doing.”
“Well, then, Diogenes, explain them systematically to my friends,” said
Pancratius. “I think I know most of them, but not all; and I shall be
glad to hear you describe them.”
“I am no scholar,” replied the old man, modestly, “but when one has
lived sixty years, man and boy, among things, one gets to know them
better than others, because one loves them more. All here have been
fully initiated, I suppose?” he added, with a pause.
“All,” answered Tiburtius, “though not so fully instructed as converts
ordinarily are. Torquatus and myself have received the sacred gift.”
[Illustration: A Ceiling in the Catacombs. From De Rossi’s “Roma
Sotteranea.”]
“Enough,” resumed the excavator. “The ceiling is the oldest part of the
painting, as is natural; for that was done when the crypt was excavated,
whereas the walls were decorated, as tombs were hollowed out. You see
the ceiling has a sort of trellis-work painted over it, with grapes, to
represent perhaps our true Vine, of which we are the branches. There you
see Orpheus sitting down, and playing sweet music, not only to his own
flock, but to the wild beasts of the desert, which stand charmed around
him.”
“Why, that is a heathen picture altogether,” interrupted Torquatus,
with pettishness, and some sarcasm; “what has it to do with
Christianity?”
“It is an allegory, Torquatus,” replied Pancratius, gently, “and a
favorite one. The use of Gentile images, when in themselves harmless,
has been permitted. You see masks, for instance, and other pagan
ornaments in this ceiling, and they belong generally to a very ancient
period. And so our Lord was represented under the symbol of Orpheus, to
conceal His sacred representation from Gentile blasphemy and sacrilege.
Look, now, in that arch; you have a more recent representation of the
same subject.”
[Illustration: Our Lord under the Symbol of Orpheus. From a picture in
the Cemetery of Domitilius.]
“I see,” said Torquatus, “a shepherd with a sheep over his
shoulders--the Good Shepherd; that I can understand; I remember the
parable.”
“But why is this subject such a favorite one?” asked Tiburtius; “I have
observed it in other cemeteries.”
“If you will look over the _arcosolium_,”[103] answered Severus, “you
will see a fuller representation of the scene. But I think we had better
first continue what we have begun, and finish the ceiling. You see that
figure on the right?”
[Illustration: The Good Shepherd. A woman praying. From the _arcosolium_
of the Cemetery of Sts. Nereus and Achilleus.]
“Yes,” replied Tiburtius; “it is that of a man apparently in a chest,
with a dove flying towards him. Is that meant to represent the Deluge?”
“It is,” said Severus, “as the emblem of regeneration by water and the
Holy Spirit; and of the salvation of the world. Such is our beginning;
and here is our end: Jonas thrown out of the boat, and swallowed by the
whale; and then sitting in enjoyment under his gourd. The resurrection
with our Lord, and eternal rest as its fruit.”
“How natural is this representation in such a place!” observed
Pancratius, pointing to the other side; “and here we have another type
of the same consoling doctrine.”
“Where?” asked Torquatus, languidly; “I see nothing but a figure
bandaged all round, and standing up, like a huge infant in a small
temple; and another person opposite to it.”
“Exactly,” said Severus; “that is the way we always represent the
resurrection of Lazarus. Here look, is a touching expression of the
hopes of our fathers in persecution: The three Babylonian children in
the fiery furnace.”
[Illustration: A Ceiling in the Catacombs. In the Cemetery of Domitilla,
third century.]
“Well, now, I think,” said Torquatus, “we may come to the _arcosolium_,
and finish this room. What are these pictures round it?”
“If you look at the left side, you see the multiplication of the loaves
and fishes. The fish[104] is, you know, the symbol of Christ.”
“Why so?” asked Torquatus, rather impatiently. Severus turned to
Pancratius, as the better scholar, to answer.
“There are two opinions about its origin,” said the youth, readily; “one
finds the meaning in the word itself; its letters forming the beginning
of words, so as to mean ‘Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour.’[105]
Another puts it in the symbol itself; that as fish are born and live in
the water, so is the Christian born of water, and buried with Christ in
it, by baptism.[106] Hence, as we came along, we saw the figure of a
fish carved on tombs, or its name engraven on them. Now go on, Severus.”
[Illustration: The fishes and anchor.]
[Illustration: The fishes and doves.]
“Then the union of the bread and the fish in one multiplication shows us
how, in the Eucharist, Christ becomes the food of all.[107] Opposite, is
Moses striking the rock, from which all drank, and which is Christ, our
drink as well as our food.”[108]
“Now, at last,” said Torquatus, “we are come to the Good Shepherd.”
“Yes,” continued Severus, “you see Him in the centre of the
_arcosolium_, in His simple tunic and leggings, with a sheep upon His
shoulders, the recovered wanderer from the flock. Two more are standing
at His sides; the truant ram on His right, the gentle ewe upon His left;
the penitent in the post of honor. On each side too, you see a person
evidently sent by Him to preach. Both are leaning forward, and
addressing sheep not of the fold. One on either side is apparently
giving no heed to their words, but browsing quietly on, while one is
turning up its eyes and head, looking and listening with eager
attention. Rain is falling copiously on them; that is the grace of God.
It is not difficult to interpret this picture.”
“But what makes this emblem such a particular favorite?” again pressed
Tiburtius.
“We consider this, and similar paintings, to belong chiefly to the time
when the Novatian heresy so much plagued the Church,” answered Severus.
“And pray what heresy is that?” asked Torquatus, carelessly; for he
thought he was losing time.
“It was, and indeed is, the heresy,” answered Pancratius, “that teaches,
that there are sins which the Church has not power to forgive; which are
too great for God to pardon.”
Pancratius was not aware of the effect of his words; but Severus, who
never took off his eye from Torquatus, saw the blood come and go
violently in his countenance.
“Is that a heresy?” asked the traitor, confused.
“Surely a dreadful one,” replied Pancratius, “to limit the mercy and
forgiveness of Him, who came to call not the just, but sinners to
repentance. The Catholic Church has always held, that a sinner, however
dark the dye, however huge the mass of his crimes, on truly repenting,
may receive forgiveness, through the penitential remedy left in her
hands. And, therefore, she has always so much loved this type of the
Good Shepherd, ready to run into the wilderness, to bring back a lost
sheep.”
“But suppose,” said Torquatus, evidently moved, “that one who had become
a Christian, and received the sacred Gift, were to fall away, and plunge
into vice, and--and”--(his voice faltered)--“almost betray his brethren,
would not the Church reject such a one from hope?”
[Illustration: The Blessed Virgin and the Magi. From a picture in the
Cemetery of Callistus.]
“No, no,” answered the youth; “these are the very crimes, which the
Novatians insult the Catholics for admitting to pardon. The Church is a
mother, with her arms ever open to re-embrace her erring children.”
There was a tear trembling in Torquatus’s eye; his lips quivered with
the confession of his guilt, which ascended to them for a moment; but as
if a black poisonous drop rose up his throat with it and choked him, he
changed in a moment to a hard, obstinate look, bit his lip, and said,
with an effort at coolness: “It is certainly a consoling doctrine for
those that need it.”
Severus alone observed that a moment of grace had been forfeited, and
that some despairing thought had quenched a flash of hope, in that man’s
heart. Diogenes and Majus, who had been absent looking at a new place
for opening a gallery near, now returned. Torquatus addressed the old
master-digger:
“We have now seen the galleries and the chambers; I am anxious to visit
the church in which we shall have to assemble.”
The unconscious excavator was going to lead the way, when the inexorable
artist interposed.
“I think, father, it is too late for to-day; you know we have got our
work to do. These young friends will excuse us, especially as they will
see the church in good time, and in better order also, as the holy
Pontiff intends to officiate in it.”
They assented; and when they arrived at the point where they had turned
off from the first straight gallery to visit the ornamented chamber,
Diogenes stopped the party, turned a few steps along an opposite
passage, and said:
“If you pursue this corridor, and turn to the right, you come to the
church. I have merely brought you here to show you an _arcosolium_, with
a beautiful painting. You here see the Virgin Mother holding her Divine
Infant in her arms, while the wise Easterns, here represented as four,
though generally we only reckon three, are adoring Him.”[109]
All admired the painting; but poor Severus was much chagrined at seeing
how his good father had unwittingly supplied the information desired by
Torquatus, and had furnished him with a sure clue to the desired turn,
by calling his attention to the tomb close round it, distinguishable by
so remarkable a picture.
When their company was departed, he told all that he had observed to his
brother, remarking, “That man will give us trouble yet: I strongly
suspect him.”
In a short time they had removed every mark which Torquatus had made at
the turnings. But this was no security against his reckonings; and they
determined to prepare for changing the road, by blocking up the present
one, and turning off at another point. For this purpose they had the
sand of new excavations brought to the ends of a gallery which crossed
the main avenue, where this was low, and left it heaped up there till
the faithful could be instructed of the intended change.
[Illustration: Moses striking the rock, from the Cemetery of “Inter duos
Lauros.”]