The New Catacomb
"Look here, Burger," said Kennedy, "I do wish that you would confide inme."
The two famous students of Roman remains sat together in Kennedy'scomfortable room overlooking the Corso. The night was cold, and theyhad both pulled up their chairs to the unsatisfactory Italian stovewhich threw out a zone of stuffiness rather than of warmth. Outsideunder the bright winter stars lay the modern Rome, the long, doublechain of the electric lamps, the brilliantly lighted cafes, the rushingcarriages, and the dense throng upon the footpaths. But inside, in thesumptuous chamber of the rich young English archaeologist, there wasonly old Rome to be seen. Cracked and timeworn friezes hung upon thewalls, grey old busts of senators and soldiers with their fightingheads and their hard, cruel faces peered out from the corners. On thecentre table, amidst a litter of inscriptions, fragments, andornaments, there stood the famous reconstruction by Kennedy of theBaths of Caracalla, which excited such interest and admiration when itwas exhibited in Berlin. Amphorae hung from the ceiling, and a litterof curiosities strewed the rich red Turkey carpet. And of them allthere was not one which was not of the most unimpeachable authenticity,and of the utmost rarity and value; for Kennedy, though little morethan thirty, had a European reputation in this particular branch ofresearch, and was, moreover, provided with that long purse which eitherproves to be a fatal handicap to the student's energies, or, if hismind is still true to its purpose, gives him an enormous advantage inthe race for fame. Kennedy had often been seduced by whim and pleasurefrom his studies, but his mind was an incisive one, capable of long andconcentrated efforts which ended in sharp reactions of sensuouslanguor. His handsome face, with its high, white forehead, itsaggressive nose, and its somewhat loose and sensual mouth, was a fairindex of the compromise between strength and weakness in his nature.
Of a very different type was his companion, Julius Burger. He came ofa curious blend, a German father and an Italian mother, with the robustqualities of the North mingling strangely with the softer graces of theSouth. Blue Teutonic eyes lightened his sun-browned face, and abovethem rose a square, massive forehead, with a fringe of close yellowcurls lying round it. His strong, firm jaw was clean-shaven, and hiscompanion had frequently remarked how much it suggested those old Romanbusts which peered out from the shadows in the corners of his chamber.Under its bluff German strength there lay always a suggestion ofItalian subtlety, but the smile was so honest, and the eyes so frank,that one understood that this was only an indication of his ancestry,with no actual bearing upon his character. In age and in reputation,he was on the same level as his English companion, but his life and hiswork had both been far more arduous. Twelve years before, he had comeas a poor student to Rome, and had lived ever since upon some smallendowment for research which had been awarded to him by the Universityof Bonn. Painfully, slowly, and doggedly, with extraordinary tenacityand single-mindedness, he had climbed from rung to rung of the ladderof fame, until now he was a member of the Berlin Academy, and there wasevery reason to believe that he would shortly be promoted to the Chairof the greatest of German Universities. But the singleness of purposewhich had brought him to the same high level as the rich and brilliantEnglishman, had caused him in everything outside their work to standinfinitely below him. He had never found a pause in his studies inwhich to cultivate the social graces. It was only when he spoke of hisown subject that his face was filled with life and soul. At othertimes he was silent and embarrassed, too conscious of his ownlimitations in larger subjects, and impatient of that small talk whichis the conventional refuge of those who have no thoughts to express.
And yet for some years there had been an acquaintanceship whichappeared to be slowly ripening into a friendship between these two verydifferent rivals. The base and origin of this lay in the fact that intheir own studies each was the only one of the younger men who hadknowledge and enthusiasm enough to properly appreciate the other.Their common interests and pursuits had brought them together, and eachhad been attracted by the other's knowledge. And then graduallysomething had been added to this. Kennedy had been amused by thefrankness and simplicity of his rival, while Burger in turn had beenfascinated by the brilliancy and vivacity which had made Kennedy such afavourite in Roman society. I say "had," because just at the momentthe young Englishman was somewhat under a cloud. A love-affair, thedetails of which had never quite come out, had indicated aheartlessness and callousness upon his part which shocked many of hisfriends. But in the bachelor circles of students and artists in whichhe preferred to move there is no very rigid code of honour in suchmatters, and though a head might be shaken or a pair of shouldersshrugged over the flight of two and the return of one, the generalsentiment was probably one of curiosity and perhaps of envy rather thanof reprobation.
"Look here, Burger," said Kennedy, looking hard at the placid face ofhis companion, "I do wish that you would confide in me."
As he spoke he waved his hand in the direction of a rug which lay uponthe floor. On the rug stood a long, shallow fruit-basket of the lightwicker-work which is used in the Campagna, and this was heaped with alitter of objects, inscribed tiles, broken inscriptions, crackedmosaics, torn papyri, rusty metal ornaments, which to the uninitiatedmight have seemed to have come straight from a dustman's bin, but whicha specialist would have speedily recognized as unique of their kind.The pile of odds and ends in the flat wicker-work basket suppliedexactly one of those missing links of social development which are ofsuch interest to the student. It was the German who had brought themin, and the Englishman's eyes were hungry as he looked at them.
"I won't interfere with your treasure-trove, but I should very muchlike to hear about it," he continued, while Burger very deliberatelylit a cigar. "It is evidently a discovery of the first importance.These inscriptions will make a sensation throughout Europe."
"For every one here there are a million there!" said the German."There are so many that a dozen savants might spend a lifetime overthem, and build up a reputation as solid as the Castle of St. Angelo."
Kennedy sat thinking with his fine forehead wrinkled and his fingersplaying with his long, fair moustache.
"You have given yourself away, Burger!" said he at last. "Your wordscan only apply to one thing. You have discovered a new catacomb."
"I had no doubt that you had already come to that conclusion from anexamination of these objects."
"Well, they certainly appeared to indicate it, but your last remarksmake it certain. There is no place except a catacomb which couldcontain so vast a store of relics as you describe."
"Quite so. There is no mystery about that. I HAVE discovered a newcatacomb."
"Where?"
"Ah, that is my secret, my dear Kennedy. Suffice it that it is sosituated that there is not one chance in a million of anyone elsecoming upon it. Its date is different from that of any known catacomb,and it has been reserved for the burial of the highest Christians, sothat the remains and the relics are quite different from anything whichhas ever been seen before. If I was not aware of your knowledge and ofyour energy, my friend, I would not hesitate, under the pledge ofsecrecy, to tell you everything about it. But as it is I think that Imust certainly prepare my own report of the matter before I exposemyself to such formidable competition."
Kennedy loved his subject with a love which was almost a mania--a lovewhich held him true to it, amidst all the distractions which come to awealthy and dissipated young man. He had ambition, but his ambitionwas secondary to his mere abstract joy and interest in everything whichconcerned the old life and history of the city. He yearned to see thisnew underworld which his companion had discovered.
"Look here, Burger," said he, earnestly, "I assure you that you cantrust me most implicitly in the matter. Nothing would induce me to putpen to paper about anything which I see until I have your expresspermission. I quite understand your feeling and I think it is mostnatural, but you have really nothing whatever to fear from me. On theother hand, if you don'
t tell me I shall make a systematic search, andI shall most certainly discover it. In that case, of course, I shouldmake what use I liked of it, since I should be under no obligation toyou."
Burger smiled thoughtfully over his cigar.
"I have noticed, friend Kennedy," said he, "that when I wantinformation over any point you are not always so ready to supply it."
"When did you ever ask me anything that I did not tell you? Youremember, for example, my giving you the material for your paper aboutthe temple of the Vestals."
"Ah, well, that was not a matter of much importance. If I were toquestion you upon some intimate thing would you give me an answer, Iwonder! This new catacomb is a very intimate thing to me, and I shouldcertainly expect some sign of confidence in return."
"What you are driving at I cannot imagine," said the Englishman, "butif you mean that you will answer my question about the catacomb if Ianswer any question which you may put to me I can assure you that Iwill certainly do so."
"Well, then," said Burger, leaning luxuriously back in his settee, andpuffing a blue tree of cigar-smoke into the air, "tell me all aboutyour relations with Miss Mary Saunderson."
Kennedy sprang up in his chair and glared angrily at his impassivecompanion.
"What the devil do you mean?" he cried. "What sort of a question isthis? You may mean it as a joke, but you never made a worse one."
"No, I don't mean it as a joke," said Burger, simply. "I am reallyrather interested in the details of the matter. I don't know muchabout the world and women and social life and that sort of thing, andsuch an incident has the fascination of the unknown for me. I knowyou, and I knew her by sight--I had even spoken to her once or twice.I should very much like to hear from your own lips exactly what it waswhich occurred between you."
"I won't tell you a word."
"That's all right. It was only my whim to see if you would give up asecret as easily as you expected me to give up my secret of the newcatacomb. You wouldn't, and I didn't expect you to. But why should youexpect otherwise of me? There's Saint John's clock striking ten. Itis quite time that I was going home."
"No; wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy; "this is really a ridiculouscaprice of yours to wish to know about an old love-affair which hasburned out months ago. You know we look upon a man who kisses andtells as the greatest coward and villain possible."
"Certainly," said the German, gathering up his basket of curiosities,"when he tells anything about a girl which is previously unknown hemust be so. But in this case, as you must be aware, it was a publicmatter which was the common talk of Rome, so that you are not reallydoing Miss Mary Saunderson any injury by discussing her case with me.But still, I respect your scruples; and so good night!"
"Wait a bit, Burger," said Kennedy, laying his hand upon the other'sarm; "I am very keen upon this catacomb business, and I can't let itdrop quite so easily. Would you mind asking me something else inreturn--something not quite so eccentric this time?"
"No, no; you have refused, and there is an end of it," said Burger,with his basket on his arm. "No doubt you are quite right not toanswer, and no doubt I am quite right also--and so again, my dearKennedy, good night!"
The Englishman watched Burger cross the room, and he had his hand onthe handle of the door before his host sprang up with the air of a manwho is making the best of that which cannot be helped.
"Hold on, old fellow," said he; "I think you are behaving in a mostridiculous fashion; but still; if this is your condition, I supposethat I must submit to it. I hate saying anything about a girl, but, asyou say, it is all over Rome, and I don't suppose I can tell youanything which you do not know already. What was it you wanted toknow?"
The German came back to the stove, and, laying down his basket, he sankinto his chair once more.
"May I have another cigar?" said he. "Thank you very much! I neversmoke when I work, but I enjoy a chat much more when I am under theinfluence of tobacco. Now, as regards this young lady, with whom youhad this little adventure. What in the world has become of her?"
"She is at home with her own people."
"Oh, really--in England?"
"Yes."
"What part of England--London?"
"No, Twickenham."
"You must excuse my curiosity, my dear Kennedy, and you must put itdown to my ignorance of the world. No doubt it is quite a simple thingto persuade a young lady to go off with you for three weeks or so, andthen to hand her over to her own family at--what did you call theplace?"
"Twickenham."
"Quite so--at Twickenham. But it is something so entirely outside myown experience that I cannot even imagine how you set about it. Forexample, if you had loved this girl your love could hardly disappear inthree weeks, so I presume that you could not have loved her at all.But if you did not love her why should you make this great scandalwhich has damaged you and ruined her?"
Kennedy looked moodily into the red eye of the stove.
"That's a logical way of looking at it, certainly," said he. "Love is abig word, and it represents a good many different shades of feeling. Iliked her, and--well, you say you've seen her--you know how charmingshe could look. But still I am willing to admit, looking back, that Icould never have really loved her."
"Then, my dear Kennedy, why did you do it?"
"The adventure of the thing had a great deal to do with it."
"What! You are so fond of adventures!"
"Where would the variety of life be without them? It was for anadventure that I first began to pay my attentions to her. I've chaseda good deal of game in my time, but there's no chase like that of apretty woman. There was the piquant difficulty of it also, for, as shewas the companion of Lady Emily Rood, it was almost impossible to seeher alone. On the top of all the other obstacles which attracted me, Ilearned from her own lips very early in the proceedings that she wasengaged."
"Mein Gott! To whom?"
"She mentioned no names."
"I do not think that anyone knows that. So that made the adventuremore alluring, did it?"
"Well, it did certainly give a spice to it. Don't you think so?"
"I tell you that I am very ignorant about these things."
"My dear fellow, you can remember that the apple you stole from yourneighbour's tree was always sweeter than that which fell from your own.And then I found that she cared for me."
"What--at once?"
"Oh, no, it took about three months of sapping and mining. But at lastI won her over. She understood that my judicial separation from mywife made it impossible for me to do the right thing by her--but shecame all the same, and we had a delightful time, as long as it lasted."
"But how about the other man?"
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose it is the survival of the fittest," said he. "If he hadbeen the better man she would not have deserted him. Let's drop thesubject, for I have had enough of it!"
"Only one other thing. How did you get rid of her in three weeks?"
"Well, we had both cooled down a bit, you understand. She absolutelyrefused, under any circumstances, to come back to face the people shehad known in Rome. Now, of course, Rome is necessary to me, and I wasalready pining to be back at my work--so there was one obvious cause ofseparation. Then, again, her old father turned up at the hotel inLondon, and there was a scene, and the whole thing became so unpleasantthat really--though I missed her dreadfully at first--I was very gladto slip out of it. Now, I rely upon you not to repeat anything of whatI have said."
"My dear Kennedy, I should not dream of repeating it. But all that yousay interests me very much, for it gives me an insight into your way oflooking at things, which is entirely different from mine, for I haveseen so little of life. And now you want to know about my newcatacomb. There's no use my trying to describe it, for you would neverfind it by that. There is only one thing, and that is for me to takeyou there."
"That would be splendid."
"When would you like to come?"
"The sooner the better. I am all impatience to see it."
"Well, it is a beautiful night--though a trifle cold. Suppose we startin an hour. We must be very careful to keep the matter to ourselves.If anyone saw us hunting in couples they would suspect that there wassomething going on."
"We can't be too cautious," said Kennedy. "Is it far?"
"Some miles."
"Not too far to walk?"
"Oh, no, we could walk there easily."
"We had better do so, then. A cabman's suspicions would be aroused ifhe dropped us both at some lonely spot in the dead of the night."
"Quite so. I think it would be best for us to meet at the Gate of theAppian Way at midnight. I must go back to my lodgings for the matchesand candles and things."
"All right, Burger! I think it is very kind of you to let me into thissecret, and I promise you that I will write nothing about it until youhave published your report. Good-bye for the present! You will find meat the Gate at twelve."
The cold, clear air was filled with the musical chimes from that cityof clocks as Burger, wrapped in an Italian overcoat, with a lanternhanging from his hand, walked up to the rendezvous. Kennedy stepped outof the shadow to meet him.
"You are ardent in work as well as in love!" said the German, laughing.
"Yes; I have been waiting here for nearly half an hour."
"I hope you left no clue as to where we were going."
"Not such a fool! By Jove, I am chilled to the bone! Come on, Burger,let us warm ourselves by a spurt of hard walking."
Their footsteps sounded loud and crisp upon the rough stone paving ofthe disappointing road which is all that is left of the most famoushighway of the world. A peasant or two going home from the wine-shop,and a few carts of country produce coming up to Rome, were the onlythings which they met. They swung along, with the huge tombs loomingup through the darkness upon each side of them, until they had come asfar as the Catacombs of St. Calistus, and saw against a rising moon thegreat circular bastion of Cecilia Metella in front of them. ThenBurger stopped with his hand to his side.
"Your legs are longer than mine, and you are more accustomed towalking," said he, laughing. "I think that the place where we turn offis somewhere here. Yes, this is it, round the corner of the trattoria.Now, it is a very narrow path, so perhaps I had better go in front andyou can follow."
He had lit his lantern, and by its light they were enabled to follow anarrow and devious track which wound across the marshes of theCampagna. The great Aqueduct of old Rome lay like a monstrouscaterpillar across the moonlit landscape, and their road led them underone of its huge arches, and past the circle of crumbling bricks whichmarks the old arena. At last Burger stopped at a solitary woodencow-house, and he drew a key from his pocket. "Surely your catacomb isnot inside a house!" cried Kennedy.
"The entrance to it is. That is just the safeguard which we haveagainst anyone else discovering it."
"Does the proprietor know of it?"
"Not he. He had found one or two objects which made me almost certainthat his house was built on the entrance to such a place. So I rentedit from him, and did my excavations for myself. Come in, and shut thedoor behind you."
It was a long, empty building, with the mangers of the cows along onewall. Burger put his lantern down on the ground, and shaded its lightin all directions save one by draping his overcoat round it.
"It might excite remark if anyone saw a light in this lonely place,"said he. "Just help me to move this boarding."
The flooring was loose in the corner, and plank by plank the twosavants raised it and leaned it against the wall. Below there was asquare aperture and a stair of old stone steps which led away down intothe bowels of the earth.
"Be careful!" cried Burger, as Kennedy, in his impatience, hurried downthem. "It is a perfect rabbits'-warren below, and if you were once tolose your way there the chances would be a hundred to one against yourever coming out again. Wait until I bring the light."
"How do you find your own way if it is so complicated?"
"I had some very narrow escapes at first, but I have gradually learnedto go about. There is a certain system to it, but it is one which alost man, if he were in the dark, could not possibly find out. Evennow I always spin out a ball of string behind me when I am going farinto the catacomb. You can see for yourself that it is difficult, butevery one of these passages divides and subdivides a dozen times beforeyou go a hundred yards."
They had descended some twenty feet from the level of the byre, andthey were standing now in a square chamber cut out of the soft tufa.The lantern cast a flickering light, bright below and dim above, overthe cracked brown walls. In every direction were the black openings ofpassages which radiated from this common centre.
"I want you to follow me closely, my friend," said Burger. "Do notloiter to look at anything upon the way, for the place to which I willtake you contains all that you can see, and more. It will save timefor us to go there direct."
He led the way down one of the corridors, and the Englishman followedclosely at his heels. Every now and then the passage bifurcated, butBurger was evidently following some secret marks of his own, for heneither stopped nor hesitated. Everywhere along the walls, packed likethe berths upon an emigrant ship, lay the Christians of old Rome. Theyellow light flickered over the shrivelled features of the mummies, andgleamed upon rounded skulls and long, white armbones crossed overfleshless chests. And everywhere as he passed Kennedy looked withwistful eyes upon inscriptions, funeral vessels, pictures, vestments,utensils, all lying as pious hands had placed them so many centuriesago. It was apparent to him, even in those hurried, passing glances,that this was the earliest and finest of the catacombs, containing sucha storehouse of Roman remains as had never before come at one timeunder the observation of the student.
"What would happen if the light went out?" he asked, as they hurriedonwards.
"I have a spare candle and a box of matches in my pocket. By the way,Kennedy, have you any matches?"
"No; you had better give me some."
"Oh, that is all right. There is no chance of our separating."
"How far are we going? It seems to me that we have walked at least aquarter of a mile."
"More than that, I think. There is really no limit to the tombs--atleast, I have never been able to find any. This is a very difficultplace, so I think that I will use our ball of string."
He fastened one end of it to a projecting stone and he carried the coilin the breast of his coat, paying it out as he advanced. Kennedy sawthat it was no unnecessary precaution, for the passages had become morecomplex and tortuous than ever, with a perfect network of intersectingcorridors. But these all ended in one large circular hall with asquare pedestal of tufa topped with a slab of marble at one end of it.
"By Jove!" cried Kennedy in an ecstasy, as Burger swung his lanternover the marble. "It is a Christian altar--probably the first one inexistence. Here is the little consecration cross cut upon the cornerof it. No doubt this circular space was used as a church."
"Precisely," said Burger. "If I had more time I should like to showyou all the bodies which are buried in these niches upon the walls, forthey are the early popes and bishops of the Church, with their mitres,their croziers, and full canonicals. Go over to that one and look atit!"
Kennedy went across, and stared at the ghastly head which lay looselyon the shredded and mouldering mitre.
"This is most interesting," said he, and his voice seemed to boomagainst the concave vault. "As far as my experience goes, it isunique. Bring the lantern over, Burger, for I want to see them all."
But the German had strolled away, and was standing in the middle of ayellow circle of light at the other side of the hall.
"Do you know how many wrong turnings there are between this and thestairs?" he asked. "There are over two thousand. No doubt it was oneof the means of protection which the Christians
adopted. The odds aretwo thousand to one against a man getting out, even if he had a light;but if he were in the dark it would, of course, be far more difficult."
"So I should think."
"And the darkness is something dreadful. I tried it once for anexperiment. Let us try it again!" He stooped to the lantern, and inan instant it was as if an invisible hand was squeezed tightly overeach of Kennedy's eyes. Never had he known what such darkness was. Itseemed to press upon him and to smother him. It was a solid obstacleagainst which the body shrank from advancing. He put his hands out topush it back from him.
"That will do, Burger," said he, "let's have the light again."
But his companion began to laugh, and in that circular room the soundseemed to come from every side at once.
"You seem uneasy, friend Kennedy," said he.
"Go on, man, light the candle!" said Kennedy impatiently.
"It's very strange, Kennedy, but I could not in the least tell by thesound in which direction you stand. Could you tell where I am?"
"No; you seem to be on every side of me."
"If it were not for this string which I hold in my hand I should nothave a notion which way to go."
"I dare say not. Strike a light, man, and have an end of thisnonsense."
"Well, Kennedy, there are two things which I understand that you arevery fond of. The one is an adventure, and the other is an obstacle tosurmount. The adventure must be the finding of your way out of thiscatacomb. The obstacle will be the darkness and the two thousand wrongturns which make the way a little difficult to find. But you need nothurry, for you have plenty of time, and when you halt for a rest nowand then, I should like you just to think of Miss Mary Saunderson, andwhether you treated her quite fairly."
"You devil, what do you mean?" roared Kennedy. He was running about inlittle circles and clasping at the solid blackness with both hands.
"Good-bye," said the mocking voice, and it was already at somedistance. "I really do not think, Kennedy, even by your own showingthat you did the right thing by that girl. There was only one littlething which you appeared not to know, and I can supply it. MissSaunderson was engaged to a poor ungainly devil of a student, and hisname was Julius Burger."
There was a rustle somewhere, the vague sound of a foot striking astone, and then there fell silence upon that old Christian church--astagnant, heavy silence which closed round Kennedy and shut him in likewater round a drowning man.
Some two months afterwards the following paragraph made the round ofthe European Press:
"One of the most interesting discoveries of recent years is that of thenew catacomb in Rome, which lies some distance to the east of thewell-known vaults of St. Calixtus. The finding of this importantburial-place, which is exceeding rich in most interesting earlyChristian remains, is due to the energy and sagacity of Dr. JuliusBurger, the young German specialist, who is rapidly taking the firstplace as an authority upon ancient Rome. Although the first to publishhis discovery, it appears that a less fortunate adventurer hadanticipated Dr. Burger. Some months ago Mr. Kennedy, the well-knownEnglish student, disappeared suddenly from his rooms in the Corso, andit was conjectured that his association with a recent scandal haddriven him to leave Rome. It appears now that he had in reality fallena victim to that fervid love of archaeology which had raised him to adistinguished place among living scholars. His body was discovered inthe heart of the new catacomb, and it was evident from the condition ofhis feet and boots that he had tramped for days through the tortuouscorridors which make these subterranean tombs so dangerous toexplorers. The deceased gentleman had, with inexplicable rashness,made his way into this labyrinth without, as far as can be discovered,taking with him either candles or matches, so that his sad fate was thenatural result of his own temerity. What makes the matter more painfulis that Dr. Julius Burger was an intimate friend of the deceased. Hisjoy at the extraordinary find which he has been so fortunate as to makehas been greatly marred by the terrible fate of his comrade andfellow-worker."