“It is on account of them that I brought you into this chamber, in preference to so many others in the cemetery. It is one of the most ancient, and contains a most complete series of pictures, from the remotest times down to some of my son’s doing.”
“Well, then, Diogenes, explain them systematically to my friends,” said Pancratius. “I think I know most of them, but not all; and I shall be glad to hear you describe them.”
“I am no scholar,” replied the old man, modestly, “but when one has lived sixty years, man and boy, among things, one gets to know them better than others, because one loves them more. All here have been fully initiated, I suppose?” he added, with a pause.
“All,” answered Tiburtius, “though not so fully instructed as converts ordinarily are. Torquatus and myself have received the sacred gift.”
A Ceiling in the Catacombs. From De Rossi’s “Roma Sotteranea.”
“Enough,” resumed the excavator. “The ceiling is the oldest part of the painting, as is natural; for that was done when the crypt was excavated, whereas the walls were decorated, as tombs were hollowed out. You see the ceiling has a sort of trellis-work painted over it, with grapes, to represent perhaps our true Vine, of which we are the branches. There you see Orpheus sitting down, and playing sweet music, not only to his own flock, but to the wild beasts of the desert, which stand charmed around him.”
“Why, that is a heathen picture altogether,” interrupted Torquatus, with pettishness, and some sarcasm; “what has it to do with Christianity?”
“It is an allegory, Torquatus,” replied Pancratius, gently, “and a favorite one. The use of Gentile images, when in themselves harmless, has been permitted. You see masks, for instance, and other pagan ornaments in this ceiling, and they belong generally to a very ancient period. And so our Lord was represented under the symbol of Orpheus, to conceal His sacred representation from Gentile blasphemy and sacrilege. Look, now, in that arch; you have a more recent representation of the same subject.”
