CHAPTER IV.
THE CATACOMBS
"No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades."
They went on in utter darkness, until at length the passage widened andthey came to steps which led below. Marcellus held the boy's dress andfollowed him.
It was certainly a situation that might provoke alarm. He wasvoluntarily placing himself in the power of men whom his class haddriven from the upper air into these drear abodes. To them he could onlybe known as a persecutor. Yet such was the impression which he hadformed of their gentleness and meekness that he had no fear of harm. Itwas in the power of this boy to lead him to death in the thick darknessof these impenetrable labyrinths, but even of this he did not think. Itwas a desire to know more of these Christians, to get at their secret,that led him on, and as he had sworn, so had he resolved that this visitshould not be made use of to their betrayal or injury.
After descending for some time the steps ended, and they walked alongthe level ground. Soon they turned and entered a small vaulted chamberwhich was lighted from the faint glow of a furnace. The boy had walkedon with the unhesitating step of one perfectly familiar with the way.Arriving at the chamber, he lighted a torch which lay on the floor andresumed his journey.
There is something in the air of a burial place which is unlike that ofany other place. It is not altogether the closeness, or the damp, or thesickening smell of earth, but a certain subtle influence which uniteswith them and intensifies them. The spell of the dead is there, and itrests alike on mind and body. Such was the air of the catacombs. Coldand damp, it struck upon the visitor like the chill atmosphere from therealms of death. The living felt the mysterious power of the dead.
The boy Pollio went on before and Marcellus followed after. The torchbut faintly illumined the intense darkness. No beam of day, no rayhowever weak, could ever enter here to relieve the thickness of theoppressive gloom. It was literally darkness that might be felt. Thetorchlight shone out but a few paces and then died in the darkness.
The path went winding on with innumerable turnings. Suddenly Polliostopped and pointed downward. Peering through the gloom, Marcellus sawan opening in the path which led further down. It was a pit to which nobottom appeared.
"Where does this lead to?"
"Below."
"Are there more passages below?"
"O yes. As many as there are here, and still below that again. I havebeen in three different stories of these paths, and some of the oldfossors say that in certain places they go down to a very great depth."
The passage wound along till all idea of locality was utterly lost.Marcellus could not tell whether he was within a few paces of theentrance or many furlongs off. His bewildered thoughts soon began toturn to other things. The first impressions of gloom departed he lookedmore particularly upon what he passed, and regarded more closely themany wonders of this strange place. All along the walls were tabletswhich appeared to cover long and narrow excavations. These cellularniches were ranged on both sides so closely that but little space wasleft between. The inscriptions that were upon the tablets showed thatthey were Christian tombs. He had not time to stop and read, but henoticed the frequent recurrence of the same expression, such as,
HONORIA--SHE SLEEPS IN PEACE.FAUSTA--IN PEACE.
On nearly every tablet he saw the same sweet and gentle word. "PEACE,"thought Marcellus; "what wonderful people are these Christians, who evenamid such scenes as these can cherish their lofty contempt of death!"
His eyes grew more and more accustomed to the gloom as he walked along.Now the passage way grew narrower; the roof drooped, the sidesapproached; they had to stoop and go along more slowly. The walls wererough and rudely cut as the workmen left them when they drew along heretheir last load of sand for the edifices above. Subterranean damps andfungous growths overspread them in places, deepening their somber colorand filling the air with thick moisture, while the smoke of the torchesmade the atmosphere still more oppressive.
They passed hundreds of side passages and scores of places where manypaths met, all branching off in different directions. These innumerablepaths showed Marcellus how hopelessly he was now cut off from the worldabove. This boy held his life in his hands.
"Do any ever lose their way?"
"Often."
"What becomes of them?"
"Sometimes they wander till they meet some friends, sometimes they arenever heard of again. But at present, most of us know the place so wellthat if we lose our way we soon wander into familiar paths again."
One thing particularly struck the young soldier, and that was theimmense preponderance of small tombs. Pollio told him that they were thegraves of children, and thus opened to him thoughts and emotions unfeltbefore.
"Children!" thought he, "what do they here, the young, the pure, theinnocent? Why were they not buried above, where the sun might shinekindly and the flowers bloom sweetly over their graves? Did they treadsuch dark paths as these on their way through life? Did they bear theirpart in the sufferings of those that lingered here flying frompersecution? Did the noxious air and the never-ending gloom of thesedrear abodes shorten their fair young lives, and send their stainlessspirits out of life before their time?"
"We have been a long time on the way," said Marcellus, "will we soon bethere?"
"Very soon," said the boy. Whatever ideas Marcellus might have had abouthunting out these fugitives before he entered here, he now saw that allattempts to do so must be in vain. An army of men might enter here andnever come in sight of the Christians. The further they went, the morehopeless would be their journey. They could be scattered through theinnumerable passages and wander about till they died.
But now a low sound arose from afar which arrested his attention. Sweetbeyond all description, low and musical, it came down the long passagesand broke upon his charmed senses like a voice from the skies.
As they went on, a light beamed before them which cast forth its raysinto the darkness. The sounds grew louder, now swelling into amagnificent chorus, now dying away into a tender wail of supplication.
In a few minutes they reached a turn in the path, and then a scene burstupon their sight.
"Stop," said Pollio, arresting his companion and extinguishing thetorch. Marcellus obeyed, and looked earnestly at the spectacle beforehim. It was a vaulted chamber about fifteen feet in height and thirtyfeet square. In this place there were crowded about a hundred people,men, women, and children. At one side there was a table, behind whichstood a venerable man who appeared to be the leader among them. Thewalls of the room seemed to have been rudely decorated with coarsepictures. The place was illuminated with the glare of torches whichthrew a lurid glow upon the assembly. The people were careworn andemaciated, and their faces were characterized by the same pallor whichMarcellus had observed in the fossor. But the expression which nowrested upon them was not of sorrow, or misery, or despair. Hopeillumined their eyes, their upturned faces spoke of joy and triumph. Thescene moved the soul of the beholder to its inmost depths, for itconfirmed all that he had seen of the Christians, their heroism, theirhope, their peace, which rested on something hidden from him. As helistened he heard their song, chanted by the whole congregation:
"Great and marvelous are thy works Lord God Almighty, Just and true are thy ways Thou king of saints. Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name? For thou only art holy. For all nations shall come and worship before thee, For thy judgments are made manifest."
Then there was a pause. The venerable leader read something from ascroll which was new to Marcellus. It was a sublime assertion of theimmortality of the soul, and life after death. The congregation seemedto hang upon the words as though they were the words of life. Finally,the reader came to a burst of joyous exclamation which drew murmurs ofgratitude and enthusiastic hope from the audience. The words thrilledupon the heart of the listener, though he did not understand their fullmeanin
g. "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. Butthanks be to God which giveth us the victory, through our Lord JesusChrist."
These words seemed to open to his mind a new world with new thoughts.Sin--death--Christ, with all the infinite train of ideas that restedupon them, arose dimly before his awakening soul. The desire for theChristian's secret which he had conceived now burned more eagerly withinhim.
The leader raised his head, and stretching out his hands, uttered afervent prayer. Addressing the invisible God, he poured forth aconfession of sin and guilt. He plead for pardon through the atoningdeath of Christ. He prayed for the Spirit from on high, so that theymight become holy. Then he enumerated all their sorrows, and prayed fordeliverance, asking for faith in life, victory in death, and immortalityin heaven for the sake of the Redeemer, Jesus.
After this followed another chant which was sung as before:
"Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, And he will dwell with them, And they shall be his people, And God himself shall be with them And be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, And there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor sighing, Neither shall there be any more pain, For the former things are passed away. Amen. Blessing, and glory, and wisdom. And thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might, Be unto our God For ever and ever. Amen."
Now the congregation began to disperse. Pollio walked forward, leadingMarcellus. At the sight of his martial figure and glittering armorthey all started backward, and would have fled by the different paths.But Marcellus called in a loud voice,
"Fear not, Christians, I am alone and in your power."
Upon this they all turned back, and looked at him with anxiouscuriosity. The aged man who led the meeting advanced and lookedearnestly upon him.
"Who are you, and why do you seek us out in the last resting-place thatis left to us on earth?"
"Do not suspect me of evil. I come alone, unattended. I am at your mercy."
"But what can a soldier and a Pretorian wish of us? Are you pursued? Areyou a criminal? Is your life in danger?"
"No. I am an officer high in rank and authority. But I have all my lifebeen seeking anxiously after the truth. I have heard much of youChristians, but in these times of persecution it is difficult to findyou in Rome. I have sought you here."
At this the aged man requested the assembly to withdraw, that he mightconverse with the new comer. The others readily did so, and retired bydifferent ways, feeling much relieved. A pale lady advanced eagerly toPollio and caught him in her arms.
"How long you were, my son!"
"I encountered this officer, dear mother, and was detained."
"Thank God you are safe. But who is he?"
"I think he is an honest man," said the boy, "see how he confides in us."
"Caecilia," said the leader, "do not go away for a little time." Thelady remained, and a few others did the same.
"I am Honorius," said the old man, addressing Marcellus, "a humble elderin the Church of Christ. I believe that you are sincere and earnest.Tell us now what you want with us."
"My name is Marcellus, and I am a captain in the Pretorian Guard."
"Alas!" cried Honorius, and clasping his hands he fell back in his seat.The others looked at Marcellus with mournful eyes, and the lady Caeciliacried out in an agony of grief,
"Pollio! how have you betrayed us!"