The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1911-12-30
A B IAN NEW YEARS EVE
A VISIT TO THE CATACOM6 OF
SAINT PRISCILLA.

SAINT PRISCILLA.
Oldest Known Picture Of the Blessed
Mother and chiTd-May Have Been
Painted by One Who Saw Her
Historic and Artistic VaIue-AH
Nations Chant the Magnificent.
written for the Catholic Bulletin.)
1t was the last day of December.
Slowly the writer wended his way
along the old Via Salaria that, in the
palmy days of Roman power and af-
fuence, formed one. of the principal
roads thanking the renowned Gardens
of Sallust. This particular afternoon
was most appropriate to suggest re-
Elections Of more or less serious ma
ture. 1t was the last day of the
year, and this alone sufficed to impress
upon ones thoughts a spirit of retro
spectiveness. For few there are who
on that day do not pass in mental re-
view the various events that have
filed up the year about to expire
events of either personal or public i'm
portance. Besides, the day was I'M
usually gloomy. Dark, heavy clouds
of forbidding aspect floated lazily
about, leaving not even a solitary ray
of sunshine to cheer the sight, while
a drizzling rain, added to a damp,
mephtic atmosphere, rendered the
urio 1roa Yiraa Of +ho 40
pagna still more intense.
Catacomb of st. Priscilla.
But that which cast a somber light
over our mental vision was the fact
that we were on our way to "a city
of the dead" to one of those sub
terranean hiding places that served
to shelter our Christian ancestors
from the fury of the tyrant, and to
receive their mortal remains after
Death had been swallowed up in vic
tory" This underground metropolis
was the catacomb, or cemetery, of st.
Priscilla, situated on the left side of
the Salarian Way, several miles from
the city gate. Nothing in it's sur
roundings indicated the sacred nature
of the place, or even it's existence, ex-
cepting modern inscription placed
over the doorway: "Coemeterium
Priscillae." This entrance was but
low, arched opening in the side of
slight elevation that scarcely could be
dignified by the appel1ation of hill.
Were it not for the inscription this
entrance might be thought to lead
simply to some subterranean wine
cellar, or perhaps, a grotto.
A small group of interested lovers
of antiquity had gathered, and were
awaiting admission, for today was the
anniversary of st. Sylvester, the mar
tyred Pope, whose remains were found
in this very cemetery. On this day
the place is open to the public, serv-
ices being held there morning and
evening on this festival
On entering these sacred precincts
for the first time feeling of reveren-
tia1 awe takes possession of the most
casual and Indifferent visitor. 1t is
like stepping into a different world.
The long, serpentine galleries-but
two or three feet wide, and scarcely
higher than a mans head-hewn out
of the tufa, or soft sandstone, and
still bearing the marks of the pick,
form a veritable labyrinth, an mex
tricable maze. Here and there a
break in the gallery leads into a
family vault, or perhaps small crypt
intended for worship. All along the.
corridors on either side are oblong
openings called loculi, wherein the
bodies of the deceased were buried.
Here and there the remains of some
inmate of this charnel house are ex-
posed to view, but few bones and
a handful Of dust being all that is
left to represent that former abode
of noble manhood and womanhood.
Many quaint frescoes and primitive
inscriptions scratched on the walls i'm
minimum, or sort of red pencil used
extensively at Pompeii in the first
century, lead us up to that early day.
Ever and anon we stop to decipher an
ancient inscription in Greek or Latin
scrawled by the rude but loving hand
Of some fossor, or carved by the def
skill of the sculptor. The fitful glare
of the few scattered candles that par
tally illumine the dark and silent
vaults is in strict keeping with the
somber tone Of the whole place, and
reminds one of the precarious and
fluctuating conditions i'm which the
now silent inhabitants of this glorious
metropolis had to wage so bitter a
strife.
On the walls of some OF the larger
crypts we behold fine specimens of
early Christian art, inspired by various
incidents of the Bible, as, for example,
the story of Susanna, and that of
Daniel
Finally, our almost aimless wander
ings lead us to a crypt, the popularity
of which at first sight is small stair
way leading to landing or platform
resting against the wall The scene