A visit to the Roman catacombs

by J. Spencer Northcote

It was necessary to give this explanation of certain symbols, and to justify it by sufficient examples, before we proceed to study any of the more complex paintings in the Catacombs. But now, with these thoughts in our minds, let us enter the Cemetery of St. Callixtus, and look on a figure represented two or three times on a wall of one of its most ancient chambers: a fish swimming and carrying on its back a basket of bread, and in the midst of the loaves of bread, a glass vessel containing a red liquid. What is this but bread and wine, the elements of the Sacrament of Love, and Jesus Christ Its reality? St. Jerome, when speaking of a holy bishop of Toulouse who had sold the gold and silver vessels of his church to relieve the poor, uses these words, “What can be more rich than a man who carries the body of Christ in a basket of wicker-work, and the blood of Christ in a vessel of glass?” Here are undeniably the basket of wicker-work and the vessel of glass; and who can doubt that we have the other also, veiled under the figure of the fish?

Consecration of the Holy Eucharist.

Let us go to another part of the same cemetery, and consider a painting which with some variations is repeated in three or four successive chambers, all opening out of one of the primitive galleries. Bread and fish lie on a three-legged table, and several baskets of bread are arranged along the floor in front of it, or a man and woman stand by the side of the table. The woman has her arms outstretched in the form of a cross, the ancient attitude of Christian prayer; the man, too, is stretching forth his hands, but in another way: he holds them forward, and especially his right hand, over the bread and fish, in such a way as to press upon every Catholic intelligence the idea that he is blessing or consecrating what is before him. To modern eyes, indeed, his vestment does not look worthy of one engaged in the highest act of Christian worship; perhaps, at first sight, it almost strikes us as hardly decent. Nevertheless, to the Christian archæologist, this very vestment is a strong confirmation of the view we are taking of the real sense of the painting. For it is the Greek pallium, or philosophers’ cloak; and we know that at the time to which this painting belongs (the end of the second or beginning of the third century) it was a common practice to preach the Word of God in this particular costume. Tertullian, who was living at the same time, wrote a treatise De Pallio, in which, in his own peculiar style, he defended its use, and congratulated the pallium on its promotion to be a Christian vestment. It was not until fifty years later that St. Cyprian objected to it, both as not sufficiently modest in itself and as vainglorious in its signification.

If there were any lingering uncertainty as to whether these figures were really intended to have reference to the Holy Eucharist, or whether our interpretation of them may not have been fanciful and arbitrary, an examination of the other decorations of the same chambers will suffice to remove it. For it will be seen that, whilst in closest connection with them are other suitable emblems or figures of the same Divine Sacrament, they are also uniformly preceded by representations of the initiatory Sacrament of the Christian covenant, without which no man can be admitted to partake of the Eucharist; and they are followed by a figure of the Resurrection, which our Lord Himself most emphatically connected with the eating of His flesh and the drinking of His blood, saying, “He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day.” These three subjects, Baptism, the Holy Eucharist, and the Resurrection occupy the three perfect sides of the chamber, the fourth side being, of course, broken by the entrance; and, taken in their right order, they faithfully depict the new life of a Christian; the life of divine grace, first imparted by baptism, then fed by the Holy Eucharist, and finally exchanged for an everlasting life of glory.

The Smitten Rock.

Let us look at the figures of these subjects in detail, and see how they are represented here. First, we have Moses striking the rock, a scene which occurs over and over again in the Catacombs, and which in these chambers commences the series of paintings we are examining; it is to be seen on the left-hand wall as we enter. St. Paul tells us that “the rock was Christ;” the water, then, which flowed from it must be those streams of Divine grace whereby His disciples are refreshed and sustained during their pilgrimage through the wilderness of this world, and this grace is first given in the waters of baptism. Next we have a man fishing, which has been already explained; and (in one instance at least) this is followed by another man performing the very act of baptism on a youth who stands before him; the youth stands in the water, and the man is pouring water over his head. Lastly, on the same wall, is the paralytic carrying his bed on his shoulders—the same, doubtless, who was miraculously cured at the pool of Bethsaida, which pool the fathers of the Church uniformly interpret as typical of the healing waters of the Christian sacrament.