A visit to the Roman catacombs

by J. Spencer Northcote

It may not be often possible to trace as clearly as we have just done in a single instance, the logical order and dependence of the several subjects that were selected for representation in each chamber of the Catacombs; they may not always have been so admirably arranged as to be in fact equivalent, as these were, to a well-ordered dogmatic discourse. Nevertheless it is only when read in this way, that the decoration of the Catacombs can be made thoroughly intelligible; and it is certain that some such meaning must have been intended from the first. The extremely limited number of Biblical subjects selected for representation, while such an immense variety is really contained in the Bible (and so many of those that are neglected might have seemed equally suitable for the purpose), and then again, the thoroughly unhistorical way in which these few subjects are dealt with, shows clearly that the principle of selection was theological rather than artistic. The artists were not left to indulge their own unfettered fancy, but worked under ecclesiastical supervision; and the Bible stories which they depicted were not represented according to their historical verity, because they were not intended to be a souvenir of past facts, but to symbolise and suggest something beyond themselves. In order, therefore, to understand them, it is necessary to bring them face to face with the Christian doctrines which they foreshadow.

Noe in the Ark.

Look, for example, at the numerous pictures of Noe in the ark which appear in the Catacombs, all resembling one another, but none resembling the reality. Instead of a vessel, three stories high, containing eight human beings and specimens of every kind of animal, we see only a narrow box, barely large enough to hold one person, and that person sometimes a lady, whose name is also inscribed upon it perhaps, being the same lady (as we learn from the inscription) who lies buried in the adjacent tomb. If all ancient Christian literature had perished, we should have been at a loss to comprehend this enigma; but as soon as we know that the Fathers of the Church speak of it as an acknowledged fact, which “nobody doubts” (to use St. Augustine’s words), that the Church was typified by the ark, a ray of light begins to dawn upon us; and when we call to mind that St. Peter himself speaks of the waters of baptism as saving men’s souls, “even as Noe and his family were saved by the waters of the flood,” all is at once made clear. We see plainly that the friends of the deceased have intended to signify that he had been received into the ark of the Church and made a Christian by baptism. And if they had added to the composition, as they often did, the figure of a dove bringing an olive branch to the person standing in the ark, this also enters into the same interpretation; it was symbolical of that Divine peace which comes to the soul in this world by faith, and which is a pledge of the peace given by everlasting happiness in the next.

Scenes from the History of Jonas.

The frequent repetition of the story of Jonas in a Christian cemetery needs no explanation, our Lord himself having put it forward as a type of His own resurrection, and so a pledge of ours also. The particular form, however, under which this story appears, was not suggested, as Noe’s ark was, by the place which it held in the cycle of Christian doctrine, but rather by a certain Pagan model with which the Romans of that day were very familiar. The mythological tale of Andromeda, and the sea-monster to which she was exposed on the coast near Joppa (for so the story ran), was a favourite subject for the decoration of the walls in Roman villas, temples, and other public buildings. It may be seen in Pompeii, and, much nearer to the Catacombs, in Rome itself—e.g., in the barracks of one of the cohorts of the imperial police, discovered a few years ago in Trastevere; and in both places the monster is the precise counterpart of that which is always represented as swallowing or casting up Jonas; a kind of dragon, with large head and ears, a long slender neck, and a very tortuous body. Of course, in the infancy of Christian art, it was convenient to have a model at hand to represent an unknown monster, and, as we have said, we do not doubt that this is the true history of its origin. Still this was not the only reason which recommended the adoption of so grotesque a form; it offered the further advantage of creating as strong a contrast as possible between this “great fish,” which was a type of death, and the ordinary fish, which, as we have seen, was the recognised symbol of the Author of life.

Another incident in the life of Jonas, which was often painted in the Catacombs, was his resting on the east side of the city of Nineve, under the shade of a certain plant which God caused to grow up for his protection, and which He again caused as suddenly to wither away. In the days of St. Jerome and St. Augustine there was a dispute between those learned doctors as to the precise nature of this plant; and in the course of it St. Jerome appealed to these paintings as bearing testimony in favour of his own rendering of the Hebrew word. We need not enter into the merits of the dispute, but it is important to note the fact of the appeal, as it peremptorily refutes the ridiculous assertions of certain authors of the present day, who would assign very recent dates to these and similar paintings in the Catacombs. We know that St. Jerome was very fond, when a boy, of visiting these places, and it is interesting to hear him appealing to the paintings he had seen in them as to “ancient witnesses.” It would be still more interesting, if we could say with certainty what were the motives which led the ancient Christians to choose this subject for such frequent contemplation; whether they read in it only a very striking lesson as to the watchfulness of Divine Providence, or whether it had a more subtle meaning, as a type of the mercy of God which overshadows the souls of the faithful in the long sleep of death which goes before the Sun of the Resurrection. But where no clue is supplied by the writings of cotemporary, or nearly cotemporary authors, we prefer to keep silence rather than to insist on any doubtful interpretation. All that need be said is that such a painting was certainly not out of place in a Christian Church or cemetery, any more than the story of Adam and Eve, or any other Biblical narrative which has reference to the doctrines or promises announced by Christianity to the world.

We do not pretend to enumerate here all the subjects from the Old and New Testaments that were painted in the Catacombs. We are but naming those that were used most frequently, that seem most interesting, or whose signification can be most precisely determined. Those who have seen the Catacombs themselves will call to mind others of which we have not spoken, but we think their meaning is generally obvious so as to need no explanation. We will name one class only of these paintings; those in which our Lord and His Blessed Mother appear. Our readers will hardly expect to find anything that pretends to be a portrait of either one or the other. We have seen that the disposition in primitive Christian art was to represent facts rather than persons, and the mystery which the facts signified rather than the facts themselves. Christ, therefore, appears most commonly in the typical character of the Good Shepherd, and as such is represented in appropriate form and with suitable accessories, or He sits in the midst of His Apostles, with a chest of volumes at His feet, as the Great Teacher of the world. Once, indeed, His head and bust form a medallion occupying the centre of a roof in a chamber of the Cemetery of St. Domitilla, the same in which appear Orpheus and his lyre. It is a work of the third century; there is more evidence of an intention to give a definite individual type of countenance, neither is the type altogether unlike that which the practice of later ages has consecrated by traditional usage. Nevertheless others of the fourth century are evidently not copies of the same model, so that it is clear that in those early days there was no uniform agreement upon the subject.