The number of labyrinthine, branching passages, through which we went, was so great, that they gave the impression of an immeasurable city of the dead; and yet we here stood upon ground which covered many lower stories, still equally extensive. At the depth at which we were, we could sometimes faintly hear the dull rumbling of a carriage rattling above our heads. For the rest, it was profoundly silent. The mystery of death had encompassed all—even the memory of the dead. The paintings alone said, “But they still live, for all that!”
The only living thing that I saw, was a queer spider, with immensely long legs. He took a leap upon my hand—the one in which I held the candle—and then another, down upon the dust and sand. I could not help thinking how frightful it would be to be lost in this subterranean city, and then, perhaps, be buried alive there. It is said that this fate has happened more than once to imprudent travelers, who ventured in without guides, and never afterwards came out. Many parts of these catacombs are not visited, from fear of the falling in of the earth; many others are closed from this cause.
After a ramble of nearly three hours underground, we again beheld the cheerful sunlight, which was a pleasant sight, although we had not been in darkness, even in those dwellings of night.
After I had seen these catacombs, after I knew that they extended to a great distance under the Roman Campagna, formerly occupied with temples and splendid villas,—both the Campagna and the whole of the eternal city acquired a new interest for my
