Another slab bears the outline of a little pig, the pictorial translation of the somewhat singular name Porcella. It was, perhaps, a term of endearment, like the obsolete English “Pigsney.”

More frequently the figures had reference to the trade or occupation of the deceased, as in the following epitaph, probably of a wool-comber, found by Dr. Maitland built into the wall of the Piazzo di Spagna, in Rome. Many important funeral tablets, both Christian and pagan, have been thus employed for the commonest purposes. The objects in the engraving are probably the shears, comb, ladle, and an unknown instrument used for cleansing wool.

On another slab is a figure, probably of a vine-dresser, in a short Roman tunic, standing near a wine cask, the symbol of his occupation. He appears to be starting to the field with his mattock on his shoulder, and in his hand is a wallet containing, perhaps, the provision for the day.

In the Catacomb of St. Agnes is a fresco of husbandmen carrying a wine butt on their shoulders, the meaning of which is probably the same. Mr. Hemans rather fantastically interprets this symbol as implying concord, or the union of the faithful bound together by sacred ties, as the staves of the cask are by its hoops.[362] Maitland translates it as standing for a proper name. We have seen examples representing fossors at work,[363] and Fabretti figures the slab of a sculptor, exhibiting the manufacture of sarcophagi. Other examples occur, in which the fuller’s tomb is indicated by mallets, the shoemaker’s by shoes or lasts, the baker’s by loaves, the wood-feller’s by an axe, the grocer’s by scales, and the like, although the meaning of some of these figures is questioned. Didron, however, presses this interpretation of these symbols much too far, making the dove, fish, anchor, and sheep, only the emblems of the occupation of the fowler, fisherman, sailor, and shepherd, respectively, thus doing violence to the acknowledged canons of epigraphic criticism to be presently indicated.[364]

But by far the larger proportion of these symbols have a religious significance, and refer to the peace and joy of the Christian, and to the holy hopes of a life beyond the grave; and many of them were derived directly from the language of Scripture. They were often of a very simple and rudimentary character, such as could be easily scratched with a trowel on the moist plaster, or traced upon the stone. They were sometimes, however, elaborately represented in excellent frescoes or sculpture.

The beautiful allusion of St. Paul to the Christian’s hope as the anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, is frequently represented in the Catacombs by the outline of an anchor, often rudely drawn, but eloquent with profoundest meaning to the mind of the believer. It assured the storm-tossed voyager on life’s rough sea that, while the anchor of his hope was cast “within the veil,” his life-bark would outride the fiercest blasts and wildest waves of persecution, and at last glide safely into the haven of everlasting rest. This allusion is made more apparent when it is observed how often it is found on the tombstones of those who bear the name Hope, in its Greek or Latin form, as ΕΛΠΙϹ, ΕΛΠΙΔΙΟϹ, SPES etc. In the accompanying example it is displayed on a Christian patera. This symbol is not unknown in classic art. It occurs on a ring from Pompeii, in the Museum of Naples, with the word ΕΛΠΙϹ, Hope.

Of kindred significance with this is the symbol of a ship, which may also refer to the soul seeking a country out of sight, as the ship steers to a land beyond the horizon. Sometimes it may be regarded as a type of the church; and in later times it is represented as steered by St. Peter and St. Paul.[365] The symbol of “the heaven-bound ship”—ἡ ναῦς οὐραοδραμοῦσα—is mentioned by Clement of Alexandria as being in vogue in the second century. This figure was used also in pagan art as an emblem of the close of life, and may still be seen carved on a tomb near the Neapolitan Gate of Pompeii. In the Catacombs the execution of the symbol is often exceedingly rude, the design being apparently copied from the clumsy barges of the Tiber. The mast and yard sometimes present a vague imitation of the cross.[366] The accompanying figure is from the Lapidarian Gallery of the Vatican.[367]

The palm and crown are symbols that frequently occur, often in a very rude form. Although common also to Jewish[368] and pagan art, they have received in Christian symbolism a loftier significance than they ever possessed before. They call to mind that great multitude whom no man can number, with whom Faith sees the dear departed walk in white, bearing palms in their hands. The crown is not the wreath of ivy or of laurel, of parsley or of bay, the coveted reward of the ancient games; nor the chaplet of earthly revelry, which, placed upon the heated brow, soon fell in withered garlands to the feet; but the crown of life, starry and unwithering, the immortal wreath of glory which the saints shall wear forever at the marriage supper of the Lamb. They are the emblems of victory over the latest foe, the assurance that

One of the most beautiful symbols of the Catacombs is the dove, the perpetual synonym of peace. Indeed, that word is frequently annexed to the figure as if to show more distinctly its meaning, as in Figs. 42 and 43.[369] The innocence and purity of the dove make it an appropriate emblem of the souls of departed Christians, soaring beyond the defilements of earth to the peaceful blessedness of heaven.[370] It is, therefore, in allusion to this thought sometimes accompanied by the words, anima innocens, anima simplex—“innocent soul,” “simple soul.” Perhaps there may be also a reference to the admonition of Our Lord, “Be ye, therefore, ... harmless as doves.” The gentleness and tender affection of these beautiful birds make them an emblem of endearment in every age, as is strikingly seen in the frequent allusions of the matchless Song of Songs. It may, therefore, be often employed in the Catacombs with reference to the domestic virtues of the deceased, and to the mutual constancy of husband and wife. The expression, palumbus sine felle—“a dove without gall”—is often applied in Christian epitaphs to the departed, especially in its diminutive form—palumbulus sine felle—on the tombs of little children, as if the bereaved parents presented their babes to the Lord, like the turtle-doves and young pigeons of the ancient Jewish offering of infant consecration.

The dove generally bears in its beak or claws an olive branch, the sign of the assuaging of the waters of Divine vengeance from the face of the earth. (See Fig. 43.) It is, then, as Tertullian expresses it, “the herald of the peace of God.”

Sometimes it is seen drinking out of a vase, or pecking at grapes or olive berries, a symbol of the soul’s enjoyment of the fruits and refreshing draughts of paradise.[371] (See Figs. 44 and 45.) As seen sitting on the arms of the cross,[372] the dove is an appropriate symbol of the peace with God purchased by the death of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The dove in a cage may imply the faithful under persecution, or the soul imprisoned in the body.

The dove was also used in the Catacombs as the symbol of the Holy Spirit in representations of the baptism of Our Lord, and is described by Paulinus as similarly employed in the church of Nola.[373] Tertullian[374] applies toward the ecclesiastical edifice the expression, columbæ domus—“house of the dove”—possibly, however, with reference to the dove-like religion and character of the Christians. In Mediæval art the Holy Spirit, under the form of a dove wearing a cruciform nimbus, the symbol of divinity, is represented brooding over the face of the waters of primeval chaos, inspiring the prophets and saints, and even nailed to the cross above the crucified body of Our Lord. This sacred emblem of the Paraclete, the Divine Comforter, by a monstrous violation of propriety was emblazoned upon battle-flags, and the Holy Name given to a military order and to ships of war.[375]

This emblem was also used in pagan art. The light-winged coursers who drew the airy chariot of Venus were doves. From the oaks of Dodona doves uttered oracles of the future. A dove was also the celestial messenger of Mahomet. The olive, too, was sacred to Minerva, and as the symbol of peace was woven into the victor’s crown.

Other pagan types were employed, but with a new and nobler Christian significance. Thus the peacock, the proud bird of Juno, frequently appears in the Catacombs, not as the symbol of the all-seeing eye of God, in imitation of the pagan myth of the hundred eyes of Argus, but as the emblem of immortality.[376] Associated in meaning and frequently confounded in form with the peacock was the phœnix, the marvellous story of whose rejuvenescence from the ashes of its funeral pyre Clement of Rome recounts with unfaltering faith.[377] Lactantius makes it the theme of an elaborate poem,[378] and Tertullian cites it as a striking illustration of the resurrection of the dead.[379] It was also considered a type of the new birth and of eternal felicity. The cock, generally associated with St. Peter,[380] is interpreted as the symbol of unsleeping vigilance; it is, perhaps, also an emblem or suggestion of the remorse of the apostle for his denial of his Lord.

Another adaptation of classic symbolism is the employment of the stag, the attribute of Diana, as the emblem of the Christian thirsting after the living waters. It is generally represented drinking at a stream, probably in allusion to the Psalmist’s panting after God as the hart after the water-brooks.[381] The hare sometimes occurs, an appropriate type of the persecution of the Christians, hunted amid those secret burrows in the earth like rabbits in their warrens. The horse is interpreted as symbolizing eagerness or speed in running the Christian race, or, perhaps, the course of life happily accomplished;[382] and the lion, fortitude of soul, or, from the notion that he slept with open eyes, vigilance against the snares of sin.[383] It is remarkable that the dog, a pagan symbol of fidelity, never occurs except as accessory in hunting scenes of manifestly heathen type; probably on account of the abhorrence of this, to them, unclean beast, by the Jews, who so largely impressed their characteristics on Christian thought and feeling.[384] The serpent, a common pagan symbol, and with the cock the attribute of Æsculapius, nowhere appears but in the scene of the temptation of Eve by the “Old Serpent, the Devil.”

The vine is an appropriate symbol of the intimate union of the believer and Christ, and the olive tree of a life fruitful in good deeds, or of the church, in whose sheltering arms all souls may find rest, as the fowls of the air in the boughs of a tree. Flowers and fruits may be the emblems of future beatitude; and a loaf, of the bread of life or of the holy eucharist. The fountain is a type of the living waters, and the lyre, of the influence of the Divine Orpheus. The lamp and the light-house are the emblems of spiritual illumination through the gospel. The balance may refer to the just dealing of the deceased, or perhaps to the final judgment and the Eastern notion of psychostasy.[385] The house probably indicates the tabernacle of the body, or perhaps the last long home of the grave, or the house not made with hands on high. Most of the symbols, however, refer to the person and work of Christ, as the central and dominating idea of the church of the Catacombs. Some of these are of such importance and of so frequent occurrence as to demand a more detailed examination.

One of the most striking and beautiful of these symbols is that which represents Christ as the Good Shepherd, and believers as the sheep of his fold. While the doves, as we have seen, may be regarded as emblematic of the beatified spirits of the departed, the sheep more appropriately symbolize those who, still in the flesh, go in and out and find pasture. Suggesting the thought of that sweet Hebrew idyl[386] of which the world will never grow tired; which, lisped by the pallid lips of the dying throughout the ages, has strengthened their hearts as they entered the dark valley; and to which Our Lord lent a deeper pathos by the tender parable of the lost sheep—small wonder that it was a favourite type of that unwearying love that sought the erring and the outcast and brought them to his fold again. With reiterated and manifold treatment the tender story is repeated over and over again, making the gloomy crypts bright with scenes of idyllic beauty, and hallowed with sacred associations.

This symbol very happily sets forth the entire scope of Christian doctrine. It illustrates the sweet pastoral representations of man’s relationship to the Shepherd of Israel who leadeth Joseph like a flock,[387] and his individual dependence upon him who is the Shepherd and Bishop of all souls.[388] But it especially illustrates the character and office of Our Lord, and the many passages of Scripture in which he represents himself as the Good Shepherd, who forsook his eternal throne to seek through this wilderness-world the lost and wandering sheep, to save whom he gave his life that he might bring them to the evergreen pastures of heaven.

This subject undergoes every possible variety of treatment and is endlessly repeated—rudely scratched on funeral slabs, elaborately sculptured on sarcophagi, moulded on lamps and vases, graven on seals and rings, traced in gold on glass, and painted in fresco, generally in the most prominent and honourable position, in the vaulting of the chambers and tympana of the arcosolia.[389] The Good Shepherd is generally represented as a youthful beardless figure in a short Roman tunic and buskins, bearing tenderly the lost sheep which he has found and laid upon his shoulders with rejoicing. This is evidently not a personal image, but an allegorical representation of the “Lord Jesus, that Great Shepherd of the sheep.” He is generally surrounded, as in Fig. 47, by a group of fleecy followers, whose action and attitude indicate the disposition of soul and manner of hearing the word. Some are listening earnestly; others are more intent on cropping the herbage at their feet, the types of those occupied with the cares and pleasures and riches of this world. A truant ram is turning heedlessly away, as if refusing to listen; and often a gentle ewe nestles fondly at the shepherd’s feet or tenderly caresses his hand. An early Christian writer, contemporary with this primitive art, furnishes an interpretation of these pictures. He compares the poor of this world to sheep in a barren desert; finding no allurements here below, they seek after those things which are above. The rich, on the contrary, are like sheep in a pleasant pasture, with heads and hearts always intent on the things of earth. Frequently a shower of rain, or of water from a rock—the emblem of the dews of grace or the waters of salvation—falls, abundantly on the listening sheep, scantily on those that are feeding, not at all on the one that is turning away.

Occasionally he is represented with a musical instrument, like the classical syrinx or Pan’s-pipe, in his hand, as in Fig. 48, as if to indicate the sweet persuasive influence of his word. In allusion to this thought Gregory Nazianzen remarks, “The Good Shepherd will at one time give his sheep rest, and at another time lead and direct them, with his staff seldom, more generally with his pipe.” In a fresco in the Catacomb of St. Agnes the shepherd’s tenderness and pity are contrasted with the mercenary harshness of the hireling who careth not for the sheep, and who rudely seizes by the leg one that struggles to get free, while the Good Shepherd merely calls his sheep, and they hear his voice and follow him. Sometimes an Orpheus, to whose lyre the sheep seem to listen with pleased attention, takes the place of the Good Shepherd.

Sometimes the shepherd is represented as leading or bearing on his shoulders a kid or goat instead of a sheep or lamb. This apparent solecism has been thought a careless imitation of pagan figures of the sylvan deity Pan, who frequently appears in art in this manner. It is more probable, however, that it was an intentional departure from the usual type, as if to illustrate the words of Our Lord, “I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance,” and to indicate his tenderness toward the fallen, rejoicing more over the lost sheep that was found than over the ninety and nine that went not astray. It was also, probably, designed as a protest against the rigour of the Novatians in refusing reconciliation to penitent apostates. Sometimes Our Lord, thus symbolically represented, is accompanied by one or more of his disciples, as under-shepherds to whom is given command to feed the flock of Christ, over which the Holy Ghost had made them overseers.

The figure of the Good Shepherd has been a favourite symbol in every age, and was common in pagan art. Mercury was worshipped under the name Criophorus, or the Ram-bearer, and was thus represented in painting and statuary.[390] More frequently the god Pan appears under that figure, generally bearing in his hand the simple instrument to which he has given his name. The Roman poets employ this sweet pastoral image in their beautiful eclogues[391] to illustrate the shepherd’s tender care for his flock, gently bearing the lambs in his arms or on his shoulders, recalling the inspired language in which Isaiah depicts the Almighty’s loving-kindness toward his people.[392] From this outward resemblance between the pagan and Christian themes, Raoul-Rochette has imagined that the frescoes of the Catacombs were careless imitations of the heathen type, overlooking their distinctively Christian interpretation. But the naked fauns dancing with the nymphs of pagan art, as in the tomb of the Nasos, are infinitely removed from the sweet and tender grace of the Christian “Pastor Bonus.” Tertullian, in the second century, speaks of chalices on which were paintings of the Good Shepherd and the lost sheep.[393] Eusebius says that Constantine placed a statue of this subject in the forum of Constantinople. It also appears in mosaic at Ravenna, A. D. 440, and in a Catacomb at Cyrene in Africa.[394]

But Our Lord is sometimes represented as a lamb instead of a shepherd.[395] Indeed, this symbol is no less appropriate than the one just considered, and has equally the sanction of Scripture. The manifold sacrifices of the tabernacle and temple all pointed to the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, the true Passover of mankind. The immaculate purity, gentleness, and divine affection of the Redeemer, and his patience under affliction and persecution, make this beautiful symbol an appropriate type of his innocence and sufferings as he was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and, as a sheep dumb before its shearers, opened not his mouth.[396] In the devout recognition of Our Lord by John the Baptist,[397] and in the sublime visions of the Apocalypse,[398] he is thus figuratively represented; and to this divine Lamb is chanted evermore the song of praise and honour and thanksgiving.[399]

In the accompanying engraving from a sarcophagus in the Lateran, of the fourth or fifth century, the lamb, wearing the nimbus in which are inscribed the sacred monogram and the letters Alpha and Omega, the emblems of divinity, is standing upon a hillock, perhaps intended for Mount Zion,[400] from which flow four streams, probably the “river of water of life,... proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb,” and dividing toward the four quarters of the earth. These streams are also variously interpreted as signifying the four evangelists, and the four rivers of paradise.[401] On a sarcophagus of later date Our Lord is represented in human form with a scroll in his hand, standing on a mound from which the four mystical rivers flow, and by his side a lamb bearing a Latin cross on its head. On either side are lambs, personifications of the apostles, to whom he is giving the final commission to preach in all lands the gospel contained in the scroll which he holds, and to baptize with the sacred waters at their feet. Sometimes twelve lambs are represented approaching one in the centre, as in frescoes in St. Clement’s at Rome, and at Ravenna. On a gilt glass patera in the Vatican Library the lambs are seen to issue from Jerusalem and Bethlehem, as indicated by their names written above, and to approach Mount Zion, from which flow the four evangelical streams united in the mystical Jordan. This is perhaps emblematic of the twelve tribes, or of the gentiles coming from the east and west to drink of the water of life. Paulinus describes a mosaic in his basilica of Fondi, where a cross symbolical of Christ was placed on the rock, and two flocks, of sheep and goats respectively, stood around it. “The shepherd turns away,” he says, “the goats on the left, and embraces with his right hand the well-deserving lambs.”[402] This was perhaps the first of that series of art-presentations of the last judgment which culminates in the tragic terrors of the Sistine Chapel.

Sometimes a milk-pail is represented near a lamb, or hanging on a crook by its side, or even resting on its back. Sometimes also it is carried by the Good Shepherd. This has been magnified without due evidence into a symbol of the eucharist. It might more naturally be regarded as an emblem of the blessings of salvation, set forth by Isaiah under the figure of wine and milk, or it may refer to the soul’s being fed with the sincere milk of the word.

On the sarcophagus of Junius Bassus in the crypts of St. Peter’s, of date A. D. 359, are exhibited several scenes from scripture history, which will be hereafter described. In the spandrels of the arches over these is a series of bas reliefs, in which lambs are naively shown as enacting other scriptural scenes. In one a lamb, the personification of Moses, strikes a rock from which the water bursts forth, and another receives the law from the hand of God. Three lambs in a fiery furnace represent the three Hebrew children in the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar. Our Lord is symbolized by a lamb on whose head another, personifying John the Baptist, is pouring the waters of baptism, while the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove breathes divine grace. A lamb, the personification of Christ, multiplies the loaves, and brings forth Lazarus from the grave.

One of the most remarkable and important, in its theological significance, of the symbols of the Catacombs is that of the fish. It is one of the oldest in the entire hieratic cycle. It is found accompanying the first dated inscription which bears any emblem whatever,[403] and nearly a hundred examples occur which are attributed to the first three centuries. It was also one of the first to be discontinued. During the fourth century it rapidly fell into disuse, and by the beginning of the fifth had almost entirely disappeared from religious art.[404]

The abandonment of this remarkable figure may be explained by its mysterious and anagrammatic character. It is a striking illustration of that disciplina arcana of the primitive church which employed signs whose secret meaning its heathen foes could not understand. When the age of persecution passed away there was no longer the necessity to conceal under allusions and emblems, known only to the initiated, religious truths which were openly proclaimed on every hand. Hence this purely conventional sign fell into disuse.

This symbol probably derived its origin from the fact that the initial letters of the names and titles of Our Lord in Greek—Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς, Θεοῦ Υἱὸς, Σωτήρ, Jesus Christ, Son of God, the Saviour—make up the word ΙΧΘΥΣ, a fish. “This single word,” says Optatus, “contains a host of sacred names.”[405] The same word also occurs acrostically in the initial letters of certain so-called Sibylline verses quoted by Eusebius[406] and Augustine,[407] which were doubtless of Christian origin. The symbol is first mentioned by Clement of Alexandria,[408] and probably had its origin in the allegorizing school of Christianity which sprang up in that city.[409]

There appears also to have been an allusion in this figure to the ordinance of baptism. “We are little fishes,” says Tertullian, “in Christ our great fish. For we are born in water, and can only be saved by continuing therein,”[410] that is, through the spiritual grace of which baptism is the visible sign. “This sign,” says Clement, “will prevent men from forgetting their origin.” “He (that is, Christ) is that fish,” says Optatus, “which in baptism descends in answer to prayer into the baptismal font, so that what was before water is now called, from the fish, (a pisce,) piscina.”[411] Even the mythical fish mentioned in the apocryphal book of Tobit,[412] occasional pictures of which occur in the Catacombs, is interpreted by some of the Fathers as typifying Our Lord. “That fish which came alive out of the river to Tobias,” says Augustine, “whose heart, (liver,) consumed by passion, put the demon to flight, was Christ.”[413]

This sacred sign was also regarded as an emblem of the sufferings of Our Lord and the benefits of his atonement. “The Saviour, the Son of God,” says Prosper of Aquitania, “is a fish prepared in his passion, by whose interior remedies we are daily enlightened and fed.”[414] “ΙΧΘΥΣ is the mystical name of Christ,” says Augustine, “because he descended alive into the depths of this mortal life as into the abyss of waters.”[415] “The fish in whose mouth was the coin paid as the tribute money,” says Jerome, “was Christ, at the cost of whose blood all sinners were redeemed.” Origen merely speaks of him as “figuratively called the fish.”[416] “Thus this symbol became,” says Dr. Northcote, “a sacred tessera, embodying with wonderful brevity and distinctness a complete abridgment of the creed—a profession of faith, as it were, both in the two natures and unity of person, and in the redemptorial office, of Our Blessed Lord.”[417]

Few symbols, if any, were more common than this. It occurs rudely scratched on funeral slabs, painted in the cubicula, sculptured on the sarcophagi, moulded on lamps,[418] engraven on rings and seals,[419] carved in ivory, mother-of-pearl, and precious stones, and cast in bronze or glass. These last, often pierced in order to be worn like an amulet, were frequently given to the neophyte at baptism to remind him of the privileges and obligations which it conferred, and they are often found buried with the dead. One of these has engraved upon it the word ΣΩΣΑΙΣ—“Mayest thou save us;” and a sepulchral lamp, besides representations of fishes, bears the word ΙΧΘΥΣ, and, as if in explanation, the cyphers Α. Ω., ΙΗ. ΧΘ. ΣΩΤΗΡ—that is, The First and the Last, Jesus Christ, the Saviour. A slab, on which are engraved two fishes and an anchor, bears the inscription, ΙΧΘΥΣ ΖΩΝΤΩΝ—“The fish of the living.” Sometimes this sacred sign is inscribed on pagan tombstones used to close the loculi of the Catacombs, in order to give them a Christian character. Frequently the execution is exceedingly rude, as in Fig. 50; occasionally it is of a more artistic form, as in Fig. 51. It seldom occurs alone, however, but associated with other Christian emblems, as the anchor or dove, (see Figs. 52 and 53,) as if to indicate that the deceased rests in Christ, in hope and in peace. Sometimes the fish bears a wreath in its mouth, perhaps in allusion to the crown which Christ will give to all his saints. Didron objects to applying these symbols to Christ, because the fish does not wear the nimbus. But the nimbus was not worn at all at this early period; such a criterion is therefore inadmissible.