VIA APPIA AND THE COLUMBARIA.
Since my last visit to Rome, more progress has been made under ground than above it. Rome is the true antipodes of America. Our business is to build—her business is to excavate. The tombs on Via Appia are among the interesting objects which the spade and mattock, during the last seventeen years, have brought to view. I remember well the beginning of this work, and the marble tombs and sarcophagi which it brought to light. I also remember, in those unconscientious days, a marble head, in exceedingly flat relief, which was desired by me, and stolen for me by the faithful servant of a friend. At the commencement of the diggings, we descended from our carriage, and easily walked to the end of the way then opened. Via Appia now affords a long drive, set with tombs on either side. Many of these are in brick, and of large dimensions. Most of the marbles have, however, been removed to the Museum of the Vatican.
On this road, if I mistake not, are the two columbaria discovered and excavated some seven years ago. They stand in a vineyard, which I saw in its spring bloom. The proprietor, a civil man, answers the little bell at the gate, and taking down a bunch of keys, unlocks for you the door of the small building erected over the vault. The original roof has fallen. All else looks as if it might have been used the day before for burial. The descent is by a steep, narrow stairway, of at least thirty steps, each of which is paved with a single lamina of coarse brick. The walls are honeycombed with small parallelogrammatic niches, in each of which was set a funeral vase or box. Over some of these places are such inscriptions as, "Non tangite vestes mortales," "Vencrare deos manes." There are many names, of which I have preserved but one, "Castus Germanicus Cæsaris." This columbarium belonged to the Flavian family. It has about it an indescribable gloom, like that of a family vault in our own time, but, it must be confessed, more æsthetic. One felt the bitter partings that death had made here, the tears, the unavailing desire to heap all the remaining goods of life upon the altar of departed friendship. Time healed these wounds then, no doubt, as he does to-day. The tears were dried, the goods enjoyed again; but, while Christianity has certainly lightened the dead weight of such sorrows, the anguish of the first blow remains what it was all those dim centuries ago. A glance into the columbarium makes you feel this.
The second columbarium is much like the first, excepting that the stair is not so well preserved. On emerging, the proprietor invited us to visit an upper room in his own house, in which were a number of objects, taken, he averred, from the two columbaria. These were mostly vases, tear-bottles, and engraved gems. But I doubted their genuineness too much to make any purchases from among them. The trade in antiquities is too cheap and easy a thing in Italy to allow faith in unattested relics.
Not very far beyond the columbaria stand the catacombs of the ancient Hebrews, much resembling in general arrangement those of the Christians. We found in several places the image of the seven-branched candlestick impressed upon the tufa. In one of the rooms were some remains of fresco. At each of its corners was painted a date-palm with its fruit. In two other rooms the frescos were in good preservation. Some of the graves were sunk in the earth, the head and feet at right angles with the others. We were shown the graves of two masters of synagogues. The frescos are not unlike those in the Christian and pagan tombs, though as I remember them, the Christian paintings are the rudest of all, as respects artistic merit.
The subjects were usually genii, peacocks, the cock, fruits, garlands, the latter sometimes painted from end to end of the wall. Some of the small tombs were still sealed with a marble slab. An entire skeleton was here shown us, and a number of sarcophagi. Of these, one was sunk into the ground, and several graves were grouped around it, much after the fashion of those in the Christian catacombs, from which Dr. Smith inferred so largely, both concerning the sanctity of the saint's body and the post-mortem power of the saint.
We were taken also to see some interesting tombs in the Via Latina. These were recently brought to light from their long concealment in a tract of the Campagna, belonging to the Barberini family. Descending a flight of stone steps, the custode admitted us into two fine vaulted chambers, decorated each after its own manner. The ceiling of the first was adorned with miniature bas-reliefs in stucco. The small figures, beautifully modelled, were enclosed in alternate squares and octagons. The designs were exhibitions of genii, griffins, and of centaurs, bearing female figures on their backs. The sculptured sarcophagi found in this tomb were removed to the Lateran Museum.
In the second tomb the walls and ceilings were adorned with miniature frescos, also enclosed in small compartments. Many of these represented landscapes, sometimes including a water view, with boats. These were rather faint in style, but very good. Peacocks, also, were frequent; and in one compartment was painted a glass dessert vase, with the fruit showing through its transparency. This design amazed us, both as to its subject and execution. Some panels in this tomb bore stucco reliefs on grounds of brilliant red and blue. In its centre was found hanging a fine bronze lamp, which is now at the Barberini Palace. A large sarcophagus of stone still remains here, nearly entire, with a pointed lid. On looking through a small break in one side of it, we perceived two skeletons, lying side by side, supposed, the custode told us, to have been husband and wife. These tombs certainly belong to a period other than that of the columbaria before described. The presence of sarcophagi, and of these skeletons, attests the burial of the dead in accordance with the usage of modern society, while the great elegance and finish of the ornamentation point to a time of wealth and luxury. I have heard no conjecture as to the original proprietorship of these tombs. They contain no military or civil emblems, and probably belonged to wealthy contractors or merchants. That day, no doubt, had its shoddy, and of the tricks practised upon the government one may read some account in Titus Livy, who, to be sure, wrote of an earlier time, but not a more vicious one.
Rome now boasts an archæological society, not indeed of Romans, but composed of foreign residents, mostly of British origin. The well-known artist Shakspear Wood is one of its most energetic members. At his invitation I attended a lecture given by Mr. Charles Hemans, on the subject of the ancient churches and mosaics of the city. Complementary to this lecture was an expedition of the society to several of these churches, which I very gladly joined. Our first and principal object of interest was the old Church of San Clementi, a building dating from the eleventh or twelfth century. Here Mr. Hemans first led us to observe an ancient fresco in the apsis, which represents the twelve apostles in the guise of twelve lambs, a thirteenth lamb, in the middle of the row, and crowned with a nimbus, representing Christ. Here we saw also an ancient marble chair, a marble altar screen, and a pavement in the ribbon mosaic, of which archæologues have so much to say. This mosaic is so named from the strips of colored stones which form its various patterns on the white marble of the pavement.
The church itself, however, occupied us but briefly. Beneath the church has recently been discovered and excavated a very extensive basilica, of a date far more ancient. This crypt was now lighted for us. Its original proportions are marred by walls of masonry built between its long rows of columns, and essential to the support of the church above. These walls are adorned by curious paintings of saints, popes, martyrs, and miracles. Among them is a very rude crucifixion; also a picture of Christ giving benediction after the fashion of the Greek church, and of a pontiff in the same act. Upon these things Mr. Hemans made many interesting comments. From the crypt we descended yet farther into a house supposed to date back at least to the empire, if not to the republic. It is a small but heavily-built enclosure, of two chambers, and contains a curious bas-relief in marble, representing a pagan sacrifice. In the narrow descent that led to it Mr. Wood showed me in three consecutive strata the tufa of the time of the kingdom, travertine of the republic, and brick of the empire.
The presence of the ancient basilica below the ancient church was suggested to one of the priests of the latter by the presence of a capital, rising just above the pavement of the church, and not accounted for by any circumstance in its architecture. This capital belonged to one of the columns of the basilica; but before so much could be ascertained, a long and laborious series of excavations had to be instituted. Father ——, the priest who first conjectured of the presence of this under building, has been indefatigable in following up the hint given by the capital, which he alone, in a succession of centuries, was clever enough to interpret. Most of the expense of this work has been borne by him.
From San Clementi the worshipful society went to the church of Santi Quattro. The object of interest here was a small chapel filled with curious old frescos, one series of which represents the conversion of Constantine. We see first depicted a dream, in which Sts. Peter and Paul appear to Constantine, warning him to desist from the murder of innocent children, whose blood was supposed to be a cure for his leprosy. Not disobedient to the heavenly vision, Constantine relinquishes the blood-bath, and releases the children. He sends for St. Sylvester, the happy possessor of an authentic portrait of the two apostles. The fresco shows us Sylvester responding to this summons, and bringing in his hand the portrait, which the emperor immediately recognizes. Farther on we see Sylvester riding in papal triumph, the emperor leading his palfrey—a haughty device for those days. Another fresco records the finding of the true cross by St. Helena. Coming at one time upon the three crosses she applied each of them in succession to the body of a dying person, who was healed at once by the contact of the true one.
The archæological society also explores the interesting neighborhoods of Rome, the villas of emperors, statesmen, and poets. Thus life springs out from decay, and the crumbling relics of the past incite new activities in minds that cling, like the ivy, about relics and ruins. This society, ancient as are the facts about which it occupies itself, seemed to me one of the most modern features of Rome, especially as it travels by rail, and carries its luncheon with it. I was not fortunate enough to join its visits to the environs of the Eternal City, but I wish that on one of its excursions it would take with it the oldest nuisance of modern society, and forget to bring it back. There is room enough outside of Rome for that which, shut within its walls, crowds out every new impulse of life and progress. No harm to the old man; no violence to his representative immunity; only let him remember that the world has room for him, and that Rome has not.