Latest / The Story of Italy: Rome, Renaissance, and the Birth of Modern Europe — Fexingo History / The Catacombs of Rome: Underground Christian Burial and Persecution
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked about Rome above ground a lot—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Forum. But there's another Rome, just as fascinating, hiding right beneath our feet. Luna: You mean the catacombs. Lucas: Exactly. The Roman catacombs. Hundreds of kilometers of tunnels dug into the soft volcanic tuff stone, mostly along the ancient roads like the Via Appia. They were used for burials from about the 2nd century all the way into the 5th. Luna: And they're famously associated with early Christians, right? Lucas: Right. But here's a common misconception: people often think Christians hid in the catacombs to escape persecution. That's almost entirely a myth. The catacombs were burial places, not hiding spots. They were dug just outside the city, because Roman law forbade burial within the pomerium, the sacred boundary of Rome. And Christians, like other religious groups, formed burial societies to manage their dead. Lucas: What's fascinating is the scale. There are about sixty known catacomb complexes under Rome, with names like San Callisto, San Sebastiano, Domitilla, Priscilla. Some of them are four or five levels deep. The tunnels are narrow—just wide enough for two people to pass—and the tombs are cut into the walls as rectangular niches called loculi, often sealed with marble slabs or tiles. Luna: Were they exclusively Christian? Lucas: Not at first. Early catacombs often mixed pagan, Jewish, and Christian burials. There's a whole separate Jewish catacomb network, like the one under Villa Torlonia, with menorahs and other symbols. But by the 3rd and 4th centuries, Christian catacombs became the dominant type. And they're incredibly decorated. Lucas: The walls and ceilings of the chambers—called cubicula—are covered in frescoes. Not a lot of narrative scenes like you'd find in a church later, but symbolic images: the Good Shepherd carrying a lamb, the Ichthys fish, the anchor, the dove with an olive branch. These were code symbols that other Christians would recognize, but a pagan might miss. Luna: So the art was a way of broadcasting faith without being too obvious. Lucas: Exactly. And if you look at the inscriptions—there are thousands of them—you see phrases like 'in peace' or 'may you live in God.' They're simple, personal, hopeful. One of my favorites is from a woman named Agape: 'Agape, who lived 14 years, 3 months, 20 days. She rests in peace.' No grand claims, just a quiet memorial. Luna: Who actually built these tunnels? Lucas: That's a great question. The digging was done by a specialized group of workers called the fossors. They were basically grave-diggers, but they were highly skilled. They knew how to cut the tuff efficiently, how to reinforce ceilings to prevent collapse, and how to carve the loculi and the more elaborate arcosolium tombs—those are arched niches that often held a sarcophagus. Some fossors even left their own epitaphs, boasting about their craftsmanship. Luna: And they worked by lamplight. Lucas: Right. Oil lamps that left black soot on the ceilings, which we can still see. It must have been claustrophobic, dusty, dangerous work. But they kept digging for centuries. The Catacombs of San Callisto alone contain nearly half a million bodies. Lucas: San Callisto is named after Pope Callixtus I, who was a deacon in charge of the cemetery before becoming pope in the early 3rd century. That catacomb became the official burial ground for the Church of Rome, housing nine popes from the 3rd century. There's a whole area called the Crypt of the Popes, where their original Greek and Latin inscriptions are still visible. Luna: So it was like the Vatican of its day. Lucas: In a way, yes. And the catacombs weren't just for burial—they had liturgical spaces, little chapels where the faithful could gather for commemorative meals or even the Eucharist, especially during times when Christian worship was illegal. But the idea of living there permanently is pure fiction. Lucas: And you know what else is a fiction? The idea that the catacombs were 'discovered' in the 16th century. Romans always knew they were there. But in 1578, a worker accidentally broke into what turned out to be a pristine catacomb on the Via Salaria, and that kicked off a wave of antiquarian interest. The real 'Columbus of the catacombs' was Antonio Bosio, a Maltese-born scholar who spent thirty years exploring and documenting them around 1600. Luna: Bosio wrote the first systematic study. Lucas: His book, Roma Sotterranea, published posthumously in 1632, became the foundation of all catacomb archaeology. But it also sparked a problem: the relic trade. In the 17th and 18th centuries, catacombs were seen as a source of sacred bones—martyrs—and thousands of skeletons were dug up and shipped to churches across Europe. Many were inscribed with phrases like 'in pace' or had a palm frond symbol, which was interpreted as a sign of martyrdom. In reality, most of those were just ordinary Christians. Luna: So a lot of relics in European churches might not be authentic. Lucas: Exactly. There was a huge industry of relic manufacturing. The catacombs of San Sebastiano, for instance, had a special reputation because they were associated with the apostles Peter and Paul—there's an ancient graffiti on a wall that says 'Peter and Paul, pray for us.' But even there, the bones were dug out and scattered. Lucas: One thing I love about the catacombs is that they preserve a very early, very humble Christianity—before it became the official religion of the empire, before the grand basilicas. It's the faith of ordinary people: artisans, laborers, women, children. Their art is simple but powerful. And their inscriptions are full of affection and hope. Luna: It's a different side of Rome than the emperors and battles we usually talk about. Lucas: Absolutely. And that's why, if you ever go to Rome, I'd say skip a few of the more touristy spots and spend an hour in the catacombs. It's a humbling experience. And it reminds you that history isn't just about the powerful—it's about everyone who lived and died. Lucas: You know, speaking of supporting the kind of history that values those overlooked stories—if you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, and you enjoy these deep dives into places like the catacombs, there's a small way to keep this show going ad-free. Luna: Yeah, listener support is really what lets us spend time on topics that aren't the usual headlines. Lucas: Exactly. So if you're able, you can buy us a coffee at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure—just helps us keep researching and sharing these stories. Luna: And we really appreciate everyone who does. Lucas: So, back underground. One more catacomb I want to mention: Domitilla, which is one of the largest and oldest, dating to the 2nd century. It was built on land owned by the Flavian family—possibly relatives of Emperor Domitian. And there, you can see a 3rd-century fresco of the Last Supper that's one of the earliest visual representations of the Eucharist. Luna: So even during persecution, they were celebrating communion. Lucas: Yes. And the catacombs continued to be used for burials even after Christianity became legal in 313 under Constantine. In fact, they expanded. But by the 5th century, the practice shifted to above-ground cemeteries, partly because the barbarian invasions made the outskirts dangerous, and partly because the cult of the martyrs moved into the churches. Lucas: The catacombs fell out of use and were slowly forgotten, except as pilgrimage sites for the martyr shrines. But they never entirely vanished. And in the 19th century, archaeologists like Giovanni Battista de Rossi—often called the 'second Columbus of the catacombs'—rediscovered the lost parts of San Callisto and transformed our understanding of early Christianity. Luna: De Rossi was the first to use scientific methods, right? Lucas: Exactly. He combined epigraphy, art history, and stratigraphy. He found the original Crypt of the Popes in 1854, which had been buried in rubble. That discovery was a sensation—it proved the early papacy had an unbroken lineage going back to the 2nd century. Luna: So the catacombs are almost like a time capsule. Lucas: They really are. They preserve a layer of Roman history that's fragile and irreplaceable. And even today, only about a tenth of them are open to the public. The rest are still being studied, or sealed off for preservation. There's still so much to learn. Luna: Are there any catacombs outside Rome? Lucas: Yes, but Rome has the most extensive network. There are catacombs in Naples, in Sicily, in North Africa, and even in Paris—though those are much later, mostly medieval quarries reused for burials. But the Roman ones are the originals. They're a unique legacy of a community that turned underground burial into a sacred art.