In the Vatican Museum are certain truculent-looking objects, said by the Roman custodians to be instruments of torture taken from the graves of the martyrs.[632] But the locality in which they were found is seldom recorded, which deprives them of much of their historic value; and many of them are probably fictitious. Dr. Northcote admits that they are often “of doubtful authenticity,” and that “many look more like domestic utensils, and seem to be of Etruscan workmanship.” “These,” he adds, “were probably never taken from the Catacombs at all.”[633] Others have too modern an appearance to admit such a supposition, and look rather, as Maitland suggests, as if “taken from the chambers of the Holy Inquisition.”[634] Among the most formidable of these alleged instruments of martyrdom, as well as the most probably genuine, are the terrible plumbatæ and ungulæ. The former were scourges of small chains loaded with bronze or lead, with which, it is recorded, the martyrs were often beaten to death.[635] Aringhi and others have affected to discover on the mouldering skeletons of the early Christians, after the lapse of fifteen hundred years, the marks made by these plumbatæ. In one exceptional instance given by Bosio,[636] an orante is represented with this dreadful instrument of torture lying beside her. The ungulæ, as the name implies, are iron claws or hooks, described in the Acts of the Martyrs as employed for lacerating their flesh. The dreadful wounds they inflict are referred to by Prudentius in his account of the martyrdom of St. Vincent: “One covers with kisses the double furrows of the ungulæ; another is glad to wipe the purple stream from the body.”
In the Catacomb of Calepodius was discovered an iron-toothed comb considered to have been similarly employed in torturing the martyrs; in the crypts of St. Alexander, among other iron instruments, was found a long narrow ladle, which it is thought was used in pouring molten lead down their throats; and in the cemetery of St. Agnes an iron hook, designed, as Aringhi conceived, for dragging their bodies after death. In the Vatican Museum is also a pair of iron forceps, with horrid trenchant teeth and the remains of wooden handles, probably employed in pinching and tearing the flesh of the helpless victims of heathen rage. A similar forceps is sometimes engraved on a funeral slab, where, in accordance with analogous examples, it probably indicated the trade of the deceased as a smith. The genius of primitive Christianity was averse to recording the circumstances of the believer’s death, and made slight allusion to the sufferings of the martyrs. Although it is possible that some of these relics of persecution may be genuine, yet it is difficult to conceive how the Christians could obtain from the pagan authorities these instruments of torture, or why they should bury them with the martyred dead; and these considerations will account for the extreme rarity of their authentic occurrence.
Vast numbers of lamps have been found in the Catacombs, and specimens abound in almost every antiquarian museum. They must have been absolutely necessary to dispel the darkness of these gloomy crypts, so as to render them safe for the solemnizing of funeral rites, for worship, or for sanctuary from oppression. They are of varying material and design, but are for the most part of terra cotta of the ordinary antique pattern and of common workmanship. Many, however, were executed in bronze or iron, often with considerable taste and skill. Some of these had bronze chains by which to suspend them from the ceiling of the chambers or corridors. Those in terra cotta had frequently handles by which they could be carried; most, however, were without either, and were placed in niches in the tufa near the stairways, at the entrances of the principal galleries, at the angles of the corridors, and in the cubicula used for purposes of worship.
These lamps generally bore some Christian symbol, as the sacred monogram, the Good Shepherd, the palm, fish, or dove, and not unfrequently the heads of St. Peter and St. Paul. Sometimes the lamp itself was made in the shape of a boat, the emblem of the church voyaging through a stormy sea to the shores of eternity; of the mystic fish, whose representation entered so largely into primitive art; of a dove, the symbol of the believer’s guilelessness and purity; or of a cock, the emblem of vigilance, a monition that he should watch and be sober. They frequently bear inscriptions referring to the five virgins, or to the source of true spiritual illumination, the divine word, which is a lamp unto the feet and a light unto the path. On one example occurs the legend, QVASI LVCERNAE LVCENTI IN CALIGINOSO LOCO—“As a light shining in a dark place,” a sentiment peculiarly appropriate to those gloomy chambers of death, which were nevertheless illumined by the glorious hope of a blissful immortality.
The accompanying example of a symbolical lamp in the form of a boat, furnished with chains and ring for suspension, is a characteristic type.[637] The figures in the little bark are interpreted by Roman archæologists as Peter and Paul—the pilot of the Galilean lake as the chief of the apostles holding the rudder and guiding the fortunes of the church. The tablet on the mast bears the inscription—DOMINVS LEGEM DAT. VALERIO SEVERO EVTROPIO. VIVAS—“The Lord gives the word. To Valerius Severus Eutropius. May you live.”
Fig. 113 exhibits a lamp from the Catacombs, on the upper part of which the ever-recurring ichthyic symbol is repeated, and on the handle the sacred monogram of the name of Our Lord. The lamp is replenished at the central opening. They sometimes burn with two or three lights. See also the terra cotta lamp with handle and medallion in Fig. 114, and the hanging lamps shown in Figs. 23 and 24.
A lamp figured by Perret has the sacred monogram surrounded by the heads of the twelve apostles. On another found in the Jewish Catacomb is a representation of the seven-branched candlestick. This also occurs in Christian symbolism, and probably is emblematic, as has been suggested by Dr. McCaul, of the sevenfold gifts of the Spirit of divine illumination.
The necessary use of lights in the funeral solemnities of the church in the Catacombs was probably the origin of the Romish usage of burying the dead with the accompaniment of burning tapers even amid the blaze of day. It was also a heathen custom, in the adoption of which, as in so many other things, the Catholic became the pagan’s heir.[638] Jerome mentions its observance in his day at the funeral of the famous Lady Paula.[639] Several others of the later Fathers mention the same practice.
From the illumination of the subterranean chapels was also derived the custom of burning altar lights, which early became prevalent, and which is so striking a feature of modern Romanism.[640] The first step in this direction seems to have been the practice of burning tapers before the shrines of the martyrs in the Catacombs, probably for the convenience of pilgrims to their tombs, which practice was continued in the churches erected over their remains. The Council of Elvira forbade the custom,[641] which Vigilantius vehemently denounced as an imitation of the pagan superstition of lighting lamps at the graves of the dead.[642] “We almost see,” he says, “the ceremonial of the heathen introduced into the churches under the guise of religion—piles of candles lighted while the sun is shining.... Great honour do such persons as do this,” he adds, “render to the blessed martyrs, thinking with miserable tapers to illumine those whom the Lamb in the midst of the throne shines upon with the splendour of his glory.”[643] In the fifth century, however, the custom of thus striving to do “vain honour to the Father of lights” had become established.
Numerous terra cotta vases of varying size and shape have been found in the Catacombs. Some of these were quite large, and were probably used for holding water or wine for the fossors, or perhaps for the refugees from persecution. The first vase in the engraving on the following page, which is exactly the shape of the classic amphora,[644] is over three feet high. The acute termination at the bottom was set in a stand or stuck in the ground, so that the vessel stood upright. Many amphoræ have been found in this position in the cellars of Pompeii. The upper right hand object is furnished with a spout, and an opening for replenishing the vessel. That in the lower right hand corner is a lamp with a handle for carrying it, ornamented by medallion heads of St. Peter and St. Paul. The small flasks in the centre of the engraving are of enamel and purple glass, about an inch high, probably for holding precious unguents. These miniature vases were sometimes made of agate, and were occasionally in the shape of a bee-hive, probably emblematic of the milk and honey given at baptism, to signify the sincere milk of the word and the sweets of salvation imparted to new-born babes of Christ.[645]
Some of these vessels are shallow basins rather than vases, (see above, and also Fig. 116,) which have been interpreted by Roman Catholic writers as benitiers, or holy-water vessels employed in the services of the Romish ritual. They were more probably ablutionary basins for the use of the fossors, summoned from their grimy labour to assist in the funeral solemnities; or, possibly, for the symbolical washing of the hands by the primitive bishops and presbyters before the consecration of the eucharist, which is mentioned by several of the Fathers as a fulfilment of that Scripture, “I will wash mine hands in innocency; so will I compass thine altar, O Lord.”[646] They have also been regarded as baptismal vases.
Generally this primitive pottery, except the fictile lamps, bears no distinctive Christian symbol; yet sometimes it does, as the accompanying amphora, the bottom of which has been broken off. Around the vessel runs the inscription, VINCENTI PIE ZESE—“Vincent, drink and live.” On the lower part are three conquering horses, probably in allusion to the name Vincent. Above the horses is the inscription, AEGIS OIKOYMENE ZEP, written backwards.
The tall vessels shown in Fig. 116, which are of silver with gold coating, are described by Perret as designed for holding the holy chrism,[647] or sacred anointing oil. They were more probably used for containing the wine for the eucharist, for which they were of sufficient size, as the subterranean assemblies could not be very numerous. On the large medallion is a bust of St. Paul, and on the reverse that of St. Peter. On the other vessel, besides the busts of these saints, is that of Our Lord wearing a nimbus, together with the sacred symbols of the cross, doves, and lambs. The nimbus, the form of the cross, the material, and the style of execution, indicate a comparatively late date. Some of the vessels we have described were doubtless employed also in the celebration of the Agape.
Among the most interesting objects found in the Catacombs are the rings and seals of the early Christians, which are frequently combined in one. Tertullian speaks of the annulus pronubus, or ring of espousal, the wearing of which was the only use of gold known to the Roman women in the days of primitive simplicity;[648] and St. Agnes declares her betrothal to Christ by the ring of his faith.[649] A signet ring was also considered an essential part of the bridal outfit of a newly wedded wife, and that not for ostentation, says Clement of Alexandria, but that, being entrusted with the care of domestic concerns, she may seal up those household treasures which might otherwise be insecure.[650] But these rings must be freed from every trace of idolatrous superstition, and bear only Christian symbols. “On our signet rings,” says the writer just mentioned,[651] “let there be seen only a dove, or a fish, or a ship sailing toward heaven, or a lyre, or an anchor; for those men ought not to engrave idolatrous forms to whom the use of them is forbidden; those can engrave no sword and bow who seek for peace; the friends of temperance cannot engrave drinking cups.”
Signet rings, being ancient symbols of authority,[652] were also worn by bishops as a sort of badge of office, and as a pledge of their spiritual espousal to the church of Christ. A curious episcopal ring worn by St. Arnulf, bishop of Metz, in the sixth century, exhibits the well-known ichthyic symbol.[653]
The ring shown in Fig. 117 bears the sacred monogram accompanied by the significant Alpha and Omega. In the seal, or intaglio, copied in Fig. 118, the ship of the church is represented as borne by the symbolical fish, while doves, the emblem of the faithful, perch upon the mast and stern. In naive blending of the literal with the figurative, Our Lord in bodily presence is seen approaching the vessel and supporting Peter by the hand, doubtless in allusion to the trial of his faith on the Sea of Galilee. The identity of both figures is indicated by the names written overhead. Two other apostles row the vessel, and a third lifts up his hands in prayer. It was doubtless a seal of this character to which Clement of Alexandria alludes as bearing the ναῦς οὐρανοδραμοῦσα—“the ship in full sail for heaven.”
On some signet rings in the Museum of Naples, found in the ruins of Pompeii, are the Christian symbols of the mystical fish, palms, and the anchor of hope, or the synonymous word ΕΛΠΙϹ. These are almost the sole indications of the existence of any Christian element in that gay, luxurious city. Other Pompeian rings bear light Epicurean mottoes, as: ΕΥΤΥΧΙ ΠΑΝΟΙΚΙ Ο ΦΕΡΩΝ—“Good luck to thee, O wearer, and to all thine;” ΛΕΓΟΥϹΙΝ Α ΘΕΛΟΥϹΙΝ ΛΕΓΕΤΩϹΑΝ ΟΥ ΜΕΛΙΜΟΙ—“They say what they will; let them say, I care not.” Another has an engraving of a finger holding an ear, with the word, ΜΝΗΜΟΝΕΥΕ—“Remember.” Other Roman rings bear such mottoes as, AMO TE AMA ME—“I love thee, love thou me;” PIGNVS AMORIS—“A pledge of love;” VNI AMBROSIA VENENVM CAETERIS—“To one nectar, to others poison.”
More frequently than the seal itself occurs its impression in the plaster of the graves, either to express some Christian sentiment, or as a means of recognizing a tomb which bore no other mark. The stamp of coins, or even shells, stuck into the plaster, were used apparently for the same purpose. In the following engraving are represented impressions of two of these seals. In the first is the confession of faith in the divinity of Our Lord by some orthodox Christian, probably in the time of the Arian heresy. In the second a devout believer declares his hope in Christ.
| CHRISTVS EST DEVS. Christ is God. |
SPES IN EO. Hope in Him, i. e., in Christ. |
| Fig. 119.—Impressions of Early Christian Seals. | |
Other seals bear such pious mottoes as DEVS DEDIT—“God gave;” VIVAS IN DEO—“May you live in God;” SPES IN DEO—“Hope in God;” PEDE SECVNDO—“May you succeed happily.” Vast numbers of tiles bearing impressions of the die upon them are found, but these are merely the stamps of the imperial brick kilns, with the names of the reigning sovereigns.
Affecting memorials of domestic affection are found in the toys and trinkets of little children enclosed in their graves or affixed to the plaster without. The dolls in the following engraving strikingly resemble those with which children amuse themselves to-day. They are made of ivory, and some are furnished with wires, by which the joints can be worked after the manner of the modern marionettes. The object in the upper left hand corner is a terra cotta vase with a narrow slit for receiving money, like the common children’s savings banks. Beneath it is an ivory ring. The other objects are small bronze bells, forming part of a child’s rattle. In the Catacomb of St. Sebastian was also found a small terra cotta horse of rude design, dappled with coloured spots.
The human affections are the same in every age. These simple objects speak more directly to the heart than “storied urn or animated bust.” As we gaze upon these childish toys in the Vatican Museum the centuries vanish, and busy fancy pictures the weeping Roman mother placing these cherished relics of her dead babe in its waxen hands or by its side, as it is laid from her loving arms in the cold embrace of the rocky grave, and then, with tear-dimmed eyes, taking a last, long, lingering farewell of the loved form about to be closed from her sight forever.
Numerous toilet articles have also been found in the Catacombs, generally in the graves of the dead or cemented by the plaster to the tombs. Many of these have been plundered and lost; but still a very interesting collection exists in the Vatican Library. Among its contents are long silver or ivory bodkins for the hair, combs of box or ivory, scent-bottles and boxes of perfume, broaches, earrings, bracelets, sometimes with keys to unlock the clasps, and other ornaments in bronze, silver, or gold.[654] The simpler manners of the Christian women, as compared with those of pagan faith around them, is indicated by the conspicuous absence of the rouge pots and jars of cosmetics, and many other articles of luxury, which formed so important a part of the toilet requisites of Rome’s proud dames, and which are so frequently found in the ruins of Pompeii. The Christian ornaments, moreover, even after the departure from the primitive simplicity of manners, were of a very different character from those of the corrupt civilization of paganism. Instead of the abominable representations of heathen art, suggesting every evil thought and stimulating every vile passion, of which so many examples occur in the Museum of Naples, only chaste and modest figures are found; and even the articles of the toilet are frequently adorned with pious mottoes. Thus, on a bodkin for a lady’s hair, probably a love-gift to a wife or betrothed bride, is engraved the beautiful sentiment, ROMVLA SEMPER VIVAS IN DEO—“Romula, may you ever live in God.” Such a religious art seems an anticipation of the day when “Holiness to the Lord” shall be written upon the bells of the horses.
Small caskets of gold or other metal for containing a portion of the gospels, generally part of the first chapter of John, which were worn on the neck, have also been found. They seem to have been introduced in the decline of primitive piety in imitation of the Jewish phylactery or pagan amulet, and were probably worn for the same superstitious purpose, to avert danger or to cure disease. They were condemned by Irenæus, Augustine, Chrysostom, and by the Council of Laodicea, as a relic of heathenism.[655] On a carved figure of a fish, with a hole drilled through it for suspending it from the neck, and probably intended for an amulet, is engraved the word, ϹΩϹΑΙϹ—“Mayest thou save us.” Medals, coins, and what are described as tessaræ of hospitality, by which the early Christians recognized travelling members of distant churches as sharers of the same faith, and admitted them to their assemblies and their homes, have likewise been found. So also have articles of domestic economy, as spoons, knives, keys, drinking-cups and shells used as such, and even a metallic kettle for cooking. Certain articles employed in religious service, as a baptismal font, altars, chairs, etc., will be hereafter described.
This practice of burying with the dead the objects which they had employed in life was common to the pagans from the earliest Etruscan times to the most recent heathen sepulture. They interred in the tombs of the departed every kind of utensil and implement of trade, and even articles of food. M. Rochette perceives herein a notion, confused and gross though it may be, of the immortality of the soul, and a proof of that instinct of man which recoils from the thought of annihilation.[656] In like manner, the Christians, although animated by a loftier hope, and inspired with an assurance of eternal deathlessness, long followed this ancient custom, even to the extent sometimes of putting the piece of money in the mouth of the deceased, intended by the heathen for the payment of Charon.[657] This was most probably, in many instances a mere unthinking conformity to ancient use and wont. Milman asserts that the practice of burying money, often large sums, with the dead, was the cause of the very severe Roman laws against the violations of the tombs, inasmuch as the government wished to reserve to itself that source of revenue.[658]
In the Christian Museum of the Vatican is a marble statue of the Good Shepherd, figured in the accompanying engraving, which is believed to be from the Catacombs. Although the execution is coarse, yet from the general style Rumohr thinks it probably the oldest extant specimen of Christian statuary.[659] Sculpture seems to have bowed less willingly than painting to the new religion, and was much more tardy in laying its offerings on the altar of Christianity. It retained also much of the spirit of paganism, and never became thoroughly imbued with Christian sentiment. The colossal figure of the Galilean fisherman beneath the mighty dome of his proud mausoleum—that stateliest fane in Christendom—if not indeed the identical statue of the Capitoline Jove, is copied from a heathen model. The majestic Moses of Michael Angelo seems rather the embodied conception of the cloud-compelling Phidian Zeus than of the Hebrew patriarch, described as the meekest of men. Even Thorwaldsen’s sublime figures of Christ and the apostles exhibit more of the majesty of antique pagan art than of the meek and tender grace of Christianity. Sculpture, as M. Rochette well remarks, struck its roots deeply into the soil of heathenism, and was with the utmost difficulty transplanted therefrom. It is essentially pagan in its character, and is especially adapted for the expression of the severer virtues. Painting is more instinct with Christian spirit, and is the better fitted for the representation of the softer graces.
Moreover, the profession of the sculptor was held in abhorrence on account of its connexion with idolatry. Tertullian stigmatizes the makers of images as the foster-fathers of devils and the procurers of idols.[660] Prudentius calls Mentor and Phidias the makers and parents of the heathen gods.[661] All who were in any wise connected with this unhallowed craft were rejected from the ordinance of baptism and denied the holy eucharist.[662] “The ancient Christians,” Buonarotti truly remarks, “always kept aloof from these arts, by which they might have run a risk of polluting themselves with idolatry; and hence it arose that few or none of them devoted themselves to painting or to sculpture, which had as their principal object the representations of the gods or the myths of the heathen.”[663] Hence the almost entire absence of Christian statuary from the Catacombs. Even the sculptured bas reliefs of the sarcophagi before described were for the most part the product of that later period, when Christianity, coming forth from these subterranean crypts, walked in the light of day and basked in the favour of princes.
This brief notice of early Christian sculpture would be incomplete without some reference to the statue of the celebrated Hippolytus, bishop of Portus, the most remarkable known specimen of that class. It was discovered by some workmen digging near the church of San Lorenzo fuori le mura in the year 1551, and probably originally stood in the adjacent Catacomb of Hippolytus. The martyr bishop is represented as seated in a sort of episcopal chair. The figure is modelled with a classic grace and dignity superior to any examples of the Constantinian period. Indeed, the distinguished art critic, Winckelmann, declares it to be the finest specimen of early Christian sculpture extant. It was considerably mutilated, but has been skilfully restored, and now stands in the Lateran Museum. On the base of the chair is engraved a list of the published writings of Hippolytus,[664] and also the table which he constructed for determining the true period of the Easter festival. The discovery of an error in this table deprived it of much of its value; and the date of this monument is probably prior to that discovery, or the early part of the third century.
Passing allusion should also be here made to the early Christian diptychs, specimens of which are found in almost every antiquarian museum. These were formed after the model of the imperial and consular diptychs, or registers of the public officers of Rome. They consisted of tablets of ivory, wood, or metal, folded together,[665] and bore the names of the bishops, officers, or distinguished patrons of the church, and memorials of the martyrs and holy dead. These memorials were frequently read in the religious assemblies of the primitive church, especially on the anniversaries of the martyrs’ death. This practice led in course of time to the invocation of their aid in the Litany of the Saints, and to other errors of Romanism. The diptychs had also frequently elaborate bas reliefs of scenes from the biblical cycle, and in the age of image-worship bore the figures of the saints to whom a corrupt Christianity had begun to pay an idolatrous veneration. They became thus the prototype of the illuminated missal of the Middle Ages.
[614] Vetri ornati di figure in oro trovati nei cimiteri dei Cristiani primitivi di Roma raccolti e spiegati da Raffaele Garrucci.—Roma, 1858.
[615] Osservazioni sopra alcuni frammenti di vasi antichi di vetro ornati di figure trovati nei cimiteri di Roma.—Firenze, 1716.
Transtyberinus ambulator,
Qui pallentia sulphurata fractis
Permutat vitreis.—Epig., i, 42.
[617] Sicche volendo i fedeli adornar con simboli devoti i loro vasi, erano forzati per lo più a valersi di artefici inesperti, e che professavano altre mestieri.—De’ Vetri Cemeteriali.
[618] Rom. Sott., p. 283.
[619] Ibid.
[620] “Unde dignationem sumeret.”—Conf., vi, 2. Compare with the expression DIGNITAS in the previous inscription.
[621] Pastor quem in calice depingis.—De Pudicit., c. 7. Ipsæ picturæ calicum vestrorum, si vel in illis perlucebit interpretatio,... et ego ejus pastoris scripturam haurio qui non potest frangi.—Ibid., 10.
[622] Glass chalices are common, indeed it is said universal, at the present day in the Coptic churches of Egypt. The San Greal, or reputed vessel of the institution of the Lord’s Supper, preserved in the Cathedral of Genoa, is, curiously enough, of glass, of a hexagonal form.
[623] P. 16, first foot note. Both Christ and Mary have the nimbus. The legend Christus et Istafanus on one example, indicating a transition into modern Italian, implies a late date.
[624] Rock’s Hierurgia, p. 269.
[625] See the epitaphs of Lannus and Gordianus, p. 98.
[626] Muratori gives the epitaph of a girl of the age of two years and twenty days, on whose tombstone this cup was found, and feeling the absurdity of this theory, but unwilling to controvert the decree of the Congregation of Relics, he adds ironically, “In these sacred cemeteries you especially wonder at two things, namely, that when so many glass or figured vases occur no mention is made in the inscriptions of martyrdom; and especially that infants suffered death on account of faith in Christ”—In sacris iis cœmeteriis duo potissimum mireris, Nempe quum tot Vasa vitrea aut figulina occurrant, nullam tamen in ipsis inscriptionibus mortis pro Christo toleratæ mentionem haberi, et praeterea Infantes ob Fidem Christi morti datos fuisse.—Nov. Thesaur. Vet. Inscrip., p. 1958, No. 8.
[627] Mornings with the Jesuits, p. 222.
[628] The Third Council of Carthage in the year 397 forbade this practice, because Christ said, “Take and eat,” whereas a dead body can neither take nor eat—Placuit ut corporibus defunctorum eucharistia non detur. Dictum est enim a Domino Accipite et edite: cadavera autem nec accipere possunt, nec edere.—Conc. Cath., 3, can. 6. Chrysostom also denounces the practice because the words were spoken to the living and not to the dead.—Hom., 40, in 1 Cor. Gregory the Great speaks of the burial of the Eucharist with the dead, “Jussit communionem Dominici corporis in pectus defuncti reponi atque sic tumulari.”—Greg. Dial., lib. ii, c. 24. Maitland thinks that these cups were probably depositories for aromatic gums much used in the interment of the dead.
[629] “Ergo palma indicium minime Martyri fuit.”—The inscription, which bears two palms, reads thus—LEOPARDVS SE BIBV FECIT.
[630] Il n’a rencontré lui même dans ces souterrains aucun trace de nul autre tableau représentant une martyre.—Hist. de l’Art.
[631] A fresco of the martyrdom of Felicitas and her seven sons, in an ancient chapel within the Baths of Titus, is not later, according to M. Rochette, (Mém. de l’Acad. des Inscr., tom. xiii, p. 165,) than the seventh century.
[632] Aringhi has given an entire chapter on this subject, entitled “Martyriorum instrumenta unà cum martyrum corporibus tumulo reponuntur.”—Rom. Sott., i, 29.
[633] Catacombs of Rome, pp. 111, 112.
[634] Ibid., p. 187.
[635] “Flagellum quoddam ad corpus excruciandum,” is the phrase of Aringhi.
[636] Rom. Sott., p. 387.
[637] Perret, tom. iv, planche 2. The ship was a favourite type of the church during the Middle Ages. In the church of St. Etienne-du-Mont, at Paris, is a representation of a vessel crowded with passengers, among whom the portrait of Francis I. has been recognized. In an ancient Merovingian MS. missal the same idea is repeated, only the Holy Spirit is substituted as pilot—Bene gubernatus est Spiritus Sanctus.
[638] La Corinne.
[639] Translata episcoporum manibus, cum alii pontifices lampadas cereosque præferrent.—Hieron., Ep. 27, ad Eustach., in Epitaph. Paulæ.
[640] Sometimes a single candelabrum bears three hundred and sixty-five lights, emblematic of the days of the year. More impressive is a solitary lamp ever burning at some lowly shrine, the type of the flame of love burning in perpetual adoration on the altar of the heart.
[641] Canon., 34.
[642] The following inscription from Gruter indicates this practice:
QVISQVE · HVIC · TVMVLO
POSVIT · ARDENTEM · LVCERNAM
ILLIVS · CINERES · AVREA · TERRA · TEGAT.
“Who ever places a burning lamp before this tomb, may a golden soil cover his ashes.”
Lactantius accuses the pagans of burning lights to God as to one living in darkness, (Institut. Divin., lib. vi, cap. 2,) and the Theodosian Code forbids the custom.
[643] Prope ritum gentilium videmus sub prætextu religionis introductum in ecclesias, sole adhuc fulgente moles cereorum accendi, etc.—Adv. Vigil., ii.
[644] From ἀμφί and φέρω—on account of the handles on each side of the neck. They were also called diota, or two-eared, from διώτη.
[645] Lac significat innocentiam parvulorum.—Hieron., in Esai. lv, 1. Deinde egressos lactis et mellis prægustare concordiam ad infantiæ significationem.—Ibid., Contr. Lucif., c. 4. See also Tertul., de Coron. Mil., c. 3; Clem. Alex., Pædagog., lib. i, c. 6.
[646] Nam utique et altare portarent et vasa ejus, et aquam in manus funderent sarcerdoti, sicut videmus per omnes ecclesias.—Aug., Quæst. Vet. et Nov. Test., qu. 101. See also Cyril, Catech. Myst., 5, n. 1.
[647] “Renfermer le Saint-chrême.” Tom. i, p. 266.
[648] Cum aurum nulla norat præter unico digito, quem sponsus oppignerasset annulo pronubo.—Apol., c. 6.
[649] Et annulo fidei suæ subarravit me.—In Ambr. Ep. 31.
[650] Clem. Alex., Pædagog., iii, 2.
[651] Ibid.
[652] See the example of Pharaoh, Gen. xli, 42; and Ahasuerus, Esther iii, 10, and viii, 2.
[653] Pitra, Spicil. Solesm., tom. iii, tab. iii, n. 4.
[654] When the tomb of the Empress Maria, wife of Honorius, was opened in 1544, a profusion of ornaments and trinkets were found, from which, it is said, not less than thirty-six pounds of gold were taken. The Empress Placidia was also interred in similar gorgeous funeral pomp, which was, however, consumed in 1577 by the accidental ignition of her gold-embroidered robes.
[655] Iren., lib. ii, c. 57. Aug., tract 7, in Joan.; serm. 215, de Tempore. Chrysos., hom. vi, Contr. Judæos. Conc. Laodic., can. 36.
[656] Il y avait là une notion confuse et grossière sans doute de l’immortalité de l’âme, mais il s’y trouvait aussi la preuve sensible et palpable de cet instinct de l’homme, qui repugne à l’idée de la destruction de son être.—Mém. de l’Acad. des Inscr., tom. xiii, p. 689.
[657] Rochette says that this practice continued down to the time of Thomas Aquinas, who wrote against it.
[658] “Gold may justly be taken from the sepulture which no longer contains its original owner,” says the minister of Theodoric to a provincial governor; “indeed, it is a sort of fault to leave idly hidden with the dead that which might support the living.”—Aurum enim justè sepulcro detrahitur, ubi dominus non habetur; imo culpæ genus est inutiliter abdita relinquere mortuorum, unde se vita potest sustentare viventium.—Cassiod., Var., iv, 34.
[659] Italienische Forschungen, vol. i, p. 168.—The subject of early Christian sculpture is fully treated in a recent work by Dr. Wilhelm Lübke, entitled Geschichte der Plastik. Two vols. Leipzig: Seeman, 1870.
[660] Qua constantia exorcizabit alumnos suos, quibus domum suam cellariam præstat ... quid aliud quam procurator idolorum demonstraris?—De Idol., c. 11.
[661] Fabri deorum, vel parentes numinum.—Peristeph., x, 293.
[662] Constit. Apostol., lib. viii, c. 32.
[663] Stettero sempre lontane di quelle arti, colle quali avessero potuto correr pericolo di contaminarsi colla idolatria, e da ciò avvenne, che pochi, o niuno di essi si diede alla pittura e alla scultura, le quali aveano per oggetto principale di rappresentare le deità, e le favole de’ gentili.—Buonarotti, De’ Vetri Cemeteriali.
[664] These were exceedingly voluminous, and although several of them have perished, those which remain throw great light on one of the most obscure periods in the history of the church, and vindicate the title of Origen of the West, bestowed on Hippolytus by Pressensé. Among his most important works were a commentary on the greater part of the Old and New Testament, treatises on Antichrist, on the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, on Good and the Origin of Evil, on God and the Resurrection. He was especially noted, moreover, as a vigorous and skilful polemic, and wrote against Platonism and Judaism, and, as we have seen, (page 173,) against Callixtus, bishop of Rome, for his pantheistic heresy. His great work, however, is that entitled the Philosophoumena. “It is a vast repertory,” says Pressensé, “reviewing all the doctrinal controversies of the church from the earliest ages and most obscure beginnings of Gnosticism. Christian antiquity has left us no more valuable monument than the treatise “On all the Heresies” of Hippolytus, discovered a few years since among the dusty treasures of a convent of Mount Athos.”
[665] Whence the name, from δίπτυχον, twofold; when several tablets were used they were called πολύπτυχον, or manifold.
BOOK THIRD.
THE INSCRIPTIONS OF THE CATACOMBS.
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE INSCRIPTIONS.
Few places in Rome are more attractive to the student of Christian archæology than the Lapidarian Gallery in the palace of the Vatican. In this long corridor[666] are preserved a multitude of epigraphic remains of the venerable past, shattered wrecks of antiquity, which have floated down the stream of time, and have here, as in a quiet haven, at length found shelter. The walls on either side are completely covered with inscribed slabs affixed to their surface. On the right hand are arranged the pagan monuments collected from the neighbourhood of the city—sepulchral and votive tablets, altar dedications, fragments of imperial rescripts and edicts, and other evidences of the power and splendour of the palmy days of Rome. On the left are the humble epitaphs of the early Christians, rudely carved in stone or scratched in plaster, and brought hither chiefly from the crypts of the Catacombs. Of greater interest to him who would rehabilitate the early ages of the church, and
To the sessions of sweet silent thought
Would summon up remembrance of things past,[667]
is this long corridor of inscriptions than any of the four thousand apartments of that vast palace of the popes, with their priceless bronzes, marbles, gems, frescoes, and other remains of classic art. He will turn away from the noble galleries where the Laocoon forever writhes in stone, and Apollo—lord of the unerring bow—watches his arrow hurtling toward its mark, to the plain marble slabs that line these walls. In the rude inscriptions here recorded he will discover some of the strongest evidences of revealed religion and most striking proofs of the purity of the faith, simplicity of worship, and uncorrupted doctrines of the early church. Thus primitive Christianity lifts its solemn protest in these halls of wealth and power, in the very palace of the popes, against the anti-Christian system of which they are the representatives.
Here the monuments of pagan and of Christian Rome confront each other. The spectator stands between two worlds of widest divergence, and cannot but be struck with the immense contrast between them. “I have spent,” says M. Rochette, “many entire days in this sanctuary of antiquity, where the sacred and profane stand face to face in the written monuments preserved to us, as in the days when paganism and Christianity, striving with all their powers, were engaged in mortal conflict.”[668] On the one side are recorded the pride and pomp of worldly rank, the lofty titles and manifold distinctions of every class, from divinities to slaves. The undying historic names of Rome’s mighty conquerors, the leaders of her cohorts and legions, mingle with those of the proud patrician citizens, and alike display on their sepulchral slabs the august array of prænomen, nomen, and cognomen, which attest their lofty social position or civil power.[669] The costly carving and elaborate bas reliefs of many of these monuments indicate the wealth of him whom they commemorate. The elegantly turned classic epitaph—with its elegiac hexameters breathing the stern and cold philosophy of the Stoa, or an utter blankness of despair concerning the future, or, perchance, a querulous and passionate complaining against the gods—shows how the races without the knowledge of the true God met the awful mystery of death. The numerous altars to all the fabled deities of the Pantheon, the vaunting inscriptions and lofty attributes ascribed to the shadowy brood of Olympus—“unconquered, greatest, and best”—read, by the light of to-day, like an unconscious satire on the high pretensions of those vanished powers. The fragmentary edicts of the emperors, the numerous military trophies, and the records of complicated political orders, indicate the might and majesty of the Empire in the days of its utmost power and splendour.
On the other side of the corridor are the humble epitaphs of the despised and persecuted Christians, many of which, by their rudeness, their brevity, and often their marks of ignorance and haste, confirm the truth of the Scripture, that “not many mighty, not many noble, are called.” Yet these “short and simple annals of the poor” speak to the heart with a power and pathos compared with which the loftiest classic eloquence seems cold and empty. It is a fascinating task to spell out the sculptured legends of the Catacombs—the vast graveyard of the primitive church, which seems to give up its dead at our questioning, to bear witness concerning the faith and hope of the Golden Age of Christianity. As we muse upon these half-effaced inscriptions—
Rudely written, but each letter
Full of hope, and yet of heart-break,
Full of all the tender pathos
Of the Here and the Hereafter—
we are brought face to face with the church of the early centuries, and are enabled to comprehend its spirit better than by means of any other evidence extant. These simple epitaphs speak no conventional language like the edicts of the emperors, the monuments of the mighty, or even the writings of the Fathers; they utter the cry of the human heart in the hours of its deepest emotion; they bridge the gulf of time, and make us feel ourselves akin with the suffering, sorrowing, yet triumphant Christians of the primitive ages.
These inscriptions were found in situ in the explorations of the Catacombs, or were dug up in vineyards in the vicinity of the city. They have been diligently collected by antiquarians for the last three hundred years. Before the year 1578 there were not a thousand Christian inscriptions extant in all Italy. Of these not one was derived from the Catacombs, and the earliest date was the year 533. With all its boasted veneration for the past, and professed devotion to the antiquities of primitive Christianity, the Church of Rome allowed the memory of the Catacombs, the shrine and sanctuary of the faith in the early centuries, to be as completely forgotten as the site of Troy; and even after their rediscovery many of their principal records of the past were wantonly destroyed or recklessly lost through the ignorance or carelessness of their self-constituted guardians and preservers. Numerous invaluable inscriptions have perished from the effects of time; many have been scattered throughout the public and private collections of Europe; and many more have been defaced or ruined by the feet of generations of worshippers in the churches of whose pavements they form a part. Bosio describes many monuments extant in his day of which De Rossi saw only the fragments, and the latter pathetically deplores the destruction and devastation of those precious relics of Christian antiquity.[670]
Christian epigraphy, however, was not altogether neglected during the Middle Ages. A manuscript collection of epitaphs found at Einsiedlen, and attributed to the ninth century, is partly Christian; and another, found at Kloster Newburg, is exclusively so. A manuscript in St. Mark’s Library at Venice contains about a hundred and fifty early Christian epitaphs. The first collection after the revival of letters was made by Pietro Sabini, and another was published by Onofrio Panvini. Leo X. commanded Raphael, the capo architetto of St. Peter’s, to preserve from injury the inscriptions—res lapidaria—of the older structure; but no systematic attempt at their preservation was made till Benedict XIV. appointed Francesco Brambini to that task. He collected a large number in the long gallery of the Vatican; but they were not arranged till the close of the last century, when they were classified by the distinguished archæologist Geatano Marini at the command of Pius VI. A new collection was begun in the Lateran Museum by Padre Marchi, which has been greatly enlarged and admirably classified and arranged by Cavaliere De Rossi. There are also other collections in the Collegio Romano, and in the Kircherian and other Museums. Many sepulchral slabs are also affixed to the walls or inserted in the pavement of the churches of St. Paul, St. Gregory, St. Laurence, St. Mark, St. Maria in Trastevere, and in a few others in Rome.[671]
That distinguished scholar and epigraphist, De Rossi, has passed through the crucible of his critical examination all the extant inscriptions of the first six centuries found in the neighbourhood of Rome. In the first volume of his Inscriptiones Christianæ he gives all those with consular dates, thirteen hundred and seventy-four in number. He designs giving in future volumes the remainder of the series, classified according to their doctrinal, historical, or other characteristics. He treats the subject with the utmost candour and moderation, and illustrates these frequently obscure topics with exhaustive and various scholarship. There are now over eleven thousand of these epitaphs extant, which number is being continually increased by the progressive exploration of the Catacombs. From an analysis of their general characteristics and appearance the following results are derived.
The inscriptions are generally engraved on marble slabs from one to three feet long and one foot high, which are used to close the graves of the dead; many, however, are mere scratches on the soft surface of the plaster, hardened in drying; and some are written with red or black paint, or, more rarely, with charcoal. The letters vary from half an inch to four inches in height, and the incised surface is frequently coloured with a reddish pigment. Prudentius, alluding to this practice of chiseling the letters in stone, calls upon the faithful to “wash with their tears the furrows of those marble slabs.”[672]
The epitaphs are for the most part written in uncial characters, frequently without any separation of the words,[673] although sometimes they are divided by spaces, points, or leaves. They frequently abound also in contractions and monogrammatic abbreviations, imposed by limit of space or economy of labour, as in the following figure: