Jahn, in his Archaeologia, sec. 206, speaks of extensive sepulchres, among the Hebrews, otherwise called the _everlasting houses_; a term of peculiar inapplicability, if we may judge from Maundrell's account of the shattered and untenantable state, in which they are found. They are all located beyond the cities and villages, to which they belong, that is, beyond their more inhabited parts. The sepulchres of the Hebrew kings were upon Mount Zion. Extensive caverns, natural or artificial, were the common burying-places or catacombs. Gardens and the shade of spreading trees were preferred, by some; these are objectionable, on the ground, suggested in a former number: to alienate the estate and leave the dead, without the right of removal, reserved, is, virtually, a transfer of one's ancestors--and to remove them may be unpleasant. For this contingency the Greeks and Romans provided, by reducing them to such a portable compa.s.s, that a man might carry his grandfather in a quart bottle, and ten generations, in the right line, in a wheelbarrow. Numerous catacombs are to be found in Syria and Palestine. The most beautiful are on the north part of Jerusalem. The entrance into these was down many steps. Some of them consisted of seven apartments, with niches in the walls, for the reception of the dead.

Maundrell, in his travels, page 76, writing of the "grots," as they were styled, which have been considered the sepulchres of kings, denies that any of the kings of Israel or Judah were buried there. He describes these catacombs, as having necessarily cost an immense amount of money and labor. The approach is through the solid rock, into an area forty paces wide, cut down square, with exquisite precision, out of the solid ma.s.s. On the south is a portico, nine paces long, and four broad, also cut from the solid rock. This has an architrave, sculptured in the stone, of fruits and flowers, running along its front. At the end of the portico, on the left, you descend into the pa.s.sage to the sepulchres. After creeping through stones and rubbish, Maundrell arrived at a large room, seven or eight yards square, cut also from the natural rock. His words are these:--"Its sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and its angles so just, that no architect, with levels and plummets, could build a room more regular."

From this room you pa.s.s into six more, of the same fabric; the two innermost being deepest. All these apartments, excepting the first, are filled around with stone coffins. They had been covered with handsome lids, and carved with garlands; but, at the period of this visit, the covers were mostly broken to pieces, by sacrilegious hands. Here is a specimen of the "everlasting houses," and a solemn satire upon the best of all human efforts--impotent and vain--to perpetuate that, which G.o.d Almighty has destined to perish. But of this I shall have more to say, when I come to sum up; and endeavor, from these dry bones, to extract such wisdom as I can, touching the best mode, in which the living may dispose of the dead, whose _memories_ they are bound to embalm, and whose _bodies_ are ent.i.tled to a decent burial.

The catacombs of the Hottentots are the wildest clefts and caverns of their mountains. The Greenlanders, after wrapping the dead, in the skins of wild animals, bear them to some far distant Golgotha. In Siberia and Kamtschatka, they are deposited in remote caverns, with mantles of snow, for their winding sheets. It is the valued privilege of the civilized and refined to snuff up corruption, and swear it is a rose--to bury their dead, in the very midst of the living--in the very tenements, in which they breathe, the larger part of every seventh day--in the vaults of churches, into which the mourners are expected to descend, and poke their noses into the tombs, to prove the full measure of their respect for the defunct. But the tombs are faithfully sealed; and, when again opened, after several months, perhaps, the olfactory nerves are not absolutely staggered--possibly a dull smeller may honestly aver, that he perceives nothing--what then? The work of corruption has gone forward--the gases have escaped--how and whither? Subtle as the lightning, they have percolated, through the meshes of brick and mortar; and the pa.s.sages or gashes, purposely left open in the walls, have given them free egress to the outward air.

Very probably neither the eye nor the nose gave notice of their escape.

Doubtless, it was gradual. The yellow fever, I believe, has never been seen nor smelt, during its most terrible ravages. I do remember--not an apothecary--but a greenhorn, who, in 1795, heard old Dr. Lloyd say the yellow fever was in the air, and who went upon the house top, next morning early, to look for it--but he saw it not; and, ever after, said he did not think much of Dr. Lloyd. I have something more to say of burials under churches, and in the midst of a dense population.

No. XI.

A few more words on the subject of burying the dead under churches, and in the midst of a dense population. If men would adopt the language of the prologue to Addison's Cato--"_dare to have sense yourselves_"--the folly and madness of this practice would be sufficiently apparent. Upon some simple subjects, one grain of common sense is better, than any quant.i.ty of the uncommon kind. But it is hard to make men think so. They prefer walking by faith--they must consult the savans--the doctors. Now I think very well of a good, old-fashioned doctor--one doctor I mean--but, when they get to be gregarious, my observation tells me, no good can possibly come of it. At post mortems, and upon other occasions, I have, in my vocation, seen them a.s.sembled, by half dozens and dozens, and I have come to the conclusion, that no body of men ever look half so wise, or feel half so foolish.

Some of the faculty were consulted, in this city, about thirty years ago, upon the question of burying under churches; and, on the strength of the opinion given, a large church, not then finished, was provided with tombs, and the dead have been buried therein, ever since. Now I think the public good would have been advanced, had those doctors set their faces against the selfish proposition. That it is a nuisance, I entertain not the slightest doubt. The practice of burying in their own houses, among the ancients, gave place to burying without the city, or to cremation. The unhealthiness, consequent upon such congregations of the dead, was experienced at Rome. The inconvenience was so severely felt, in a certain quarter, that Augustus gave a large part of one of the cemeteries to Maecenas, who so completely purified it, and changed its character, that it became one of the healthiest sites in Rome, and there he built a splendid villa, to which Augustus frequently resorted, for fresh air and repose.

Horace alludes to this transformation, Sat. 8, lib. 1, v. 10, and the pa.s.sage reminds one of the change, which occurred in Philadelphia, when the Potter's field was beautifully planted, and transformed into Washington Square.

Hoc miserae plebi stabat commune sepulchrum, Pantolabo scurrae; Nomentanoque nepoti.

Mille pedes in fronte, trecentos cippus in agrum Hic dabat, heredes monumentum ne sequeretur.

Nunc licet Esquiliis habitare salubribus, atque Aggere in apprico spatiari, qua modo tristes Albis informem spectabant ossibus agrum.

Millingen, in his work on Medical jurisprudence, page 54, remarks--"From time immemorial medical men have pointed out to munic.i.p.al authorities the dangers, that arise from burying the dead, within the precincts of cities, or populous towns."

The early Christians buried their martyrs, and afterwards eminent citizens, in their temples. Theodosius, in his celebrated code, forbade the practice, because of the infectious diseases.

Theodolphus, the Bishop of Orleans, complained to Charlemagne, that vanity and the love of lucre had turned churches into charnel houses, disgraceful to the church, and dangerous to man.

Cuthbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, first sanctioned the use of churches, for charnel houses, in 758--though Augustine had previously forbidden the practice. As Sterne said, in another connection, "they manage these matters much better, in France;" there Maret, in 1773, and Vicq d'Azyr, in 1778, pointed out the terrible consequences, so effectually, that none, but dignitaries, were suffered to be buried in churches. In 1804, inhumation, in the cities of France, was wholly forbidden, without any exception. The arguments produced, at that time, are not uninteresting, at this, or any other. In Saulien, about 140 miles from Paris, in the year 1773, the corpse of a corpulent person was buried, March 3, under the church of St Saturnin. April 20, following, a woman was buried near it.

Both had died of a prevailing fever, which had nearly pa.s.sed away. At the last interment a foul odor filled the church, and out of 170 persons present, 149 were attacked with the disease. In 1774 at Nantes, several coffins were removed, to make room for a person of note; and fifteen of the bystanders died of the emanation, shortly after. In the same year, one third of the inhabitants of Lectouse died of malignant fever, which appeared, immediately after the removal of the dead from a burial-ground, to give place to a public structure.

The public mind is getting to be deeply impressed, upon this subject.

Cities, and the larger towns are, in many instances, building homes for the dead, beyond the busy haunts of the living. The city of London has, until within a few years, been backward, in this sanatory movement. At present, however, there are six public cemeteries, in the suburbs of that city, of no inconsiderable area: the Kensall Green Cemetery, established by act 2 and 3 of William IV., in 1832, containing 53 acres--the South Metropolitan, by act 6 and 7 William IV., 1836, containing 40 acres--the Highgate and Kentish Town, by act 7 and 8 William IV., containing 22 acres--the Abney Park, at Stoke Newington, containing 30 acres, 1840--the Westminster, at Earlscourt, Kensington road, 1840--and the Nunhead, containing 40 acres, 1840. Paris has its beautiful Pere La Chaise, covering the site of the house and extensive grounds, once belonging to the Jesuit of that name, the confessor of Louis XIV., who died in 1709.

New York has its Greenwood; Philadelphia its Laurel Hill; Albany its Rural Cemetery; Baltimore its Green Mount; Rochester its Mount Hope; we our Mount Auburn; and our neighboring city of Roxbury has already selected--and well selected--a local habitation for the dead, and wants nothing but a name, which will not long be wanting, nor a graceful arrangement of the grounds, from the hands of one, to whom Mount Auburn is indebted, for so much of all that is admirable there. I shall rejoice, if the governors of this cemetery should decree, that no _tomb_ should ever be erected therein--but that the dead should be laid in their _graves_.

My experience has supplied me with good and sufficient reasons--one thousand and one--against the employment of tombs, some of which reasons I may hereafter produce, though the honor of our craft may constrain me to keep silence, in regard to others. Some very bitter family squabbles have arisen, about tombs. Two deacons, who were half brothers, had a serious and lasting dispute, respecting a family tomb. They became almost furious; one of them solemnly protesting, that he would never consent to be buried there, while he had his reason, and the other declaring, that he would never be put into that tomb, while G.o.d spared his life. This, however, is not one of those one thousand and one reasons, against tombs.

No. XII.

The origin of the catacombs of Paris is very interesting, and not known to many. The stone, of which the ancient buildings of Paris were constructed, was procured from quarries, on the banks of the river Bieore. No system had been adopted in the excavation; and, for hundreds of years, the material had been withdrawn, until the danger became manifest. There was a vague impression, that these quarries extended under a large part of the city. In 1774 the notice of the authorities was called to some accidents, connected with the subject. The quarries were then carefully examined, by skilful engineers; and the startling fact clearly established, that the southern parts of Paris were actually undermined, and in danger of destruction. In 1777 a special commission was appointed, to direct such works, as might be necessary. On the very day of its appointment, the necessity became manifest--a house, in the Rue d'Enfer, sunk ninety-two feet. The alarm--the fear of a sudden engulphment--was terrible.

Operatives were set at work, to prop the streets, roads, palaces, and churches. The supports, left by the quarriers, without any method or judgment, were insufficient--in some instances, they had given way, and the roof had settled. Great fear was felt for the aqueduct of Arcueil, which supplied the fountains of Paris, and which pa.s.sed over this ground, for it had already suffered some severe shocks; and it was apprehended, not simply that the fountains would be cut off, but that the torrent would pour itself into these immense caverns. And now the reader will inquire, what relation has this statement to the catacombs? Let us reply.

For hundreds of years, Paris had but one place of interment, the Cemetery des Innocens. This was once a part of the royal domains; it lay without the walls of Paris; and was given, by one of the earlier kings, to the citizens, for a burying-place. It is well known, that this gift to the people was intended to prevent the continuance of the practice, then common in Paris, of burying the dead, in cellars, courts, gardens, streets, and public fields, within the city proper. In 1186 this cemetery was surrounded with a high wall, by Philip Augustus, the forty second king of France. It was soon found insufficient for its purpose; and, in 1218, it was enlarged, by Pierre de Nemours, Bishop of Paris. Generation after generation was deposited there, stratum super stratum, until the surrounding parishes, in the fifteenth century, began to complain of the evil, as an insufferable nuisance. Such a colossal ma.s.s of putrescence produced discomfort and disease. Hichnesse speaks of several holes about Paris, of great size and depth, in which dead bodies were deposited, and left uncovered, till one tier was filled, and then covered with a layer of earth, and so on, to the top. He says these holes were cleared, once in thirty or forty years, and the bones deposited, in what was called "_le grand charnier des Innocens_;" this was an arched gallery, surrounding the great cemetery.

With what affectionate respect we cherish the venerated name of Francois Pontraci! _Magnum et venerabile nomen!_ He was the last--the last of the grave-diggers of _le grand charnier des Innocens_! In the days of my novitiate, I believed in the mathematical dictum, which teaches, that two things cannot occupy the same place, at the same time. But that dictum appears incredible, while contemplating the operations of Pontraci. He was a most accomplished stevedore in his department--the Napoleon of the charnel house, the very king of spades. All difficulties vanished, before his magic power. Nothing roused his indignation so much, as the suggestion, that a cemetery was _full_--_c'est impossible!_ was his eternal reply. To use the terms of another of the fine arts, the touch of Pontraci was irresistible--his _handling_ masterly--his _grouping_ unsurpa.s.sed--and his _fore-shortening_ altogether his own. _Condense!_ that word alone explained the mystery of his great success. Knapsacks are often thrown aside, _en route_, in the execution of rapid movements. In the grand march of death, Pontraci considered coffins an enc.u.mbrance.

Those wooden surtouts he thought well enough for parade, but worse than useless, on a march. He had a poor opinion of an artist, who could not find room, for twenty citizens, heads and heels, in one common grave.

Madame Pontraci now and then complained, that the fuel communicated a problematical flavor to the meat, while roasting--"_c'est odeur, qui a rapport a une profession particuliere, madame_," was the reply of Pontraci. The register, kept by this eminent man, shows, that, in thirty years, he had deposited, in this cemetery, ninety thousand bodies. It was calculated, that twelve hundred thousand had been buried there, since the time of Philip Augustus. In 1805, the Archbishop of Paris, under a resolve of the Council of State, issued a decree, that the great cemetery should be suppressed and evacuated. It was resolved to convert it into a market place. The happy thought of converting the quarries into catacombs fortunately occurred, at that period, to M. Lenoie, lieutenant general of police. Thus a receptacle was, at once, provided for the immense ma.s.s of human remains, to be removed from the Cemetery des Innocens. A portion of the quarries, lying under the _Plaine de Mont Souris_, was a.s.signed, for this purpose. A house was purchased with the ground adjoining, on the old road to Orleans. It had, at one time, belonged to Isouard, a robber, who had infested that neighborhood. A flight of seventy-seven steps was made, from the house down into the quarries; and a well sunk to the bottom, down which the bones were to be thrown. Workmen were employed, in constructing pillars to sustain the roof, and in walling round the part, designed for _le charnier_. The catacombs were then consecrated, with all imaginable pomp.

In the meantime, the vast work of removing the remains went forward, night and day, suspended, only, when the hot weather rendered it unsafe to proceed. The nocturnal scenes were very impressive. A strange resurrection, to be sure! Bonfires burnt brightly amid the gloom. Torches threw an unearthly glare around, and illuminated these dealings with the dead. The operatives, moving about in silence, bearing broken crosses, and coffins, and the bones of the long buried, resembled the agents of an infernal master. All concerned had been publicly admonished, to reclaim the crosses, tombstones, and monuments of their respective dead. Such, as were not reclaimed, were placed in the field, belonging to the house of Isouard. Many leaden coffins were buried there, one containing the remains of Madame de Pompadour. During _the_ revolution, the house and grounds of Isouard were sold as national domain, the coffins melted, and the monuments destroyed. The catacombs received the dead from other cemeteries; and those, who fell, in periods of commotion, were cast there.

When convents were suppressed, the dead, found therein, were transferred to this vast omnibus.

During the revolution, the works were neglected--the soil fell in; water found its way to the interior; the roof began to crumble; and the bones lay, in immense heaps, mixed with the rubbish, and impeding the way. And there, for the present, we shall leave them, intending to resume this account of the catacombs of Paris, in a future number.

No. XIII.

In 1810, the disgusting confusion, in the catacombs of Paris, was so much a subject of indignant remark, that orders were issued to put things in better condition. A plan was adopted, for piling up the bones. In some places, these bones were thirty yards in thickness; and it became necessary to cut galleries through the ma.s.ses, to effect the object proposed.

There were two entrances to the catacombs--one near the barrier d'Enfer, for visitors--the other, near the old road to Orleans, for the workmen.

The staircase consisted of ninety steps, which, after several windings, conducted to the western gallery, from which others branched off, in different directions. A long gallery, extending beneath the aqueduct of Arcueil, leads to the gallery of Port Mahon, as it is called. About a hundred yards from this gallery, the visitor comes again to the pa.s.sage to the catacombs; and, after walking one hundred yards further, he arrives at the vestibule, which is of an octagonal form. This vestibule opens into a long gallery, lined with bones, from top to bottom. The arm, leg, and thigh bones are in front, compactly and regularly piled together. The monotony of all this is tastefully relieved, by three rows of skulls, at equal distances, and the smaller bones are stowed behind. How very French!

This gallery leads to other apartments, lined with bones, variously and fancifully arranged. In these rooms are imitation vases and altars, constructed of bones, and surmounted with skulls, fantastically arranged.

This really seems to be the work of some hybrid animal--a cross, perhaps, between the Frenchman and the monkey.

These crypts, as they are called, are designated by names, strangely dissimilar. There is the Crypte de Job, and the Crypte d'Anacreon--the Crypte de La Fontaine, and the Crypte d'Ezekiel--the Crypte d'Hervey, and the Crypte de Rousseau. An alb.u.m, kept here, is filled with mawkish sentimentality, impertinent witticism, religious fervor, and infidel bravado.

The calculations vary, as to the number of bodies, whose bones are collected here. At the lowest estimate, the catacombs are admitted to contain the remains of three millions of human beings.

While contemplating the fantastical disposition of these human relics, one recalls the words of Sir Thomas Browne, in his Hydriotaphia--"Antiquity held too light thoughts from objects of mortality, while some drew provocatives of mirth from anatomies, and jugglers showed tricks with skeletons."

Here then, like "_broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show_," are the broken skeletons of more than three millions of human beings, paraded for public exhibition! Most of them, doubtless, received Christian burial, and were followed to their graves, and interred, with more or less of the forms and ceremonies of the Catholic church, and deposited in the earth, there to repose in peace, till the resurrection! How applicable here the language of the learned man, whom we just quoted--"When the funeral pyre was out, and the last valediction over, men took a lasting adieu of their interred friends, little expecting the curiosity of future ages should comment upon their ashes; and having no old experience of the duration of their relics, held no opinion of such after-considerations. But who knows the fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried! Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" How little did the gay and guilty Jeane Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour, imagine this rude handling of her mortal remains! She was buried in the Cemetery des Innocens, in 1764--and shared the common exhumation and removal in 1805.

It seems to have been the desire of mankind, in every age and nation, to repose in peace, after death. In conformity with this desire, the cemeteries of civilized nations, the morais of the Polynesian isles, and the cities of the dead, throughout the world, have been, from time immemorial, consecrated and tabooed. So deep and profound has been the sentiment of respect, for the feelings of individuals, upon this subject, that great public improvements have been abandoned, rather than give offence to a single citizen.

Near forty years ago, a meeting was held in Faneuil Hall, to consider a proposition for some change, in the Granary burying-ground, which proposition, was rejected, by acclamation. During the Mayoralty, of the elder Mr. Quincy, it was the wish of very many to continue the mall, through the burial-ground, in the Common. The consent of all, but two or three, was obtained. They were offered new tombs, and the removal of their deceased relatives, under their own supervision, at the charge of the city. These two or three still objected, and this great public improvement was abandoned; and with manifest propriety. The basis of this sentiment is a deep laid and tender respect for the ashes of the dead, and an earnest desire, that they may rest, undisturbed, till the resurrection; and this is the very last thing, which is likely to befall the tenant of a TOMB; for the owner--and tombs, like other tenements, will change owners--in the common phraseology of leases, has a right to enter, "to view, and expel the lessee"--if no survivor is at hand to prevent, and the new proprietor has other tenants, whom he prefers for the dark and gloomy mansion. And they, in process of time, shall be served, in a similar manner, by another generation. This is no exception; it is the general rule, the common course of dealing with the dead. A tomb, containing the remains of several generations, may become, by marriage, the property of a stranger.

His wife dies. He marries anew. New connections beget new interests. The tomb is _useless_, to him, because it is _full_. A general clearance is decreed. A hole is dug in the bottom of the tomb; the coffins, with an honorable exception, in respect to his late beloved, are broken to pieces; and the remains cast into the pit, and covered up. The tablet, overhead, perpetuates the lie--"Sacred to the memory," &c. However, the tomb is white-washed, and swept out, and a nice place he has made of it! All this, have I seen, again and again.

When a tomb is opened, for a new interment, dilapidated coffins are often found lying about, and bones, mud, and water, on the bottom. We always make the best of it, and stow matters away, as decently as we can. We are often blamed for time's slovenly work. Grossman said, that a young spendthrift, who really cared for nothing but his pleasures, was, upon such an occasion, seized with a sudden fit of reverence for his great grandfather, and threatened to shoot Grossman, unless he produced him, immediately. He was finally pacified by a plain statement, and an exhibition of the old gentleman's bones behind the other coffins. We could not be looked upon, more suspiciously, by certain inconsiderate persons, if we were the very worms that did the mischief. As a cla.s.s, we are as honorable as any other. There are bad men, in every calling. There is no crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, which has not been committed, by some apostle, in holy orders. Doctors and even apothecaries are, occasionally, scoundrels. And, in a very old book, now entirely out of print, I have read, that there was, in the olden time, a lawyer, _rara avis_, who was suspected of not adhering, upon all occasions, to the precise truth. Tombs are nuisances. I will tell you why.

No. XIV.

Tombs are obviously more liable to invasion, with and without a.s.sistance, from the undertaker and his subalterns, than graves. There may be a few exceptions, where the s.e.xton does not cooperate. If a grave be dug, in a suitable soil, of a proper depth, which is some feet lower than the usual measure, the body will, in all probability, remain undisturbed, for ages, and until corruption and the worm shall have done their work, upon flesh and blood, and decomposition is complete. An intelligent s.e.xton, who keeps an accurate chart of his diggings, will eschew that spot. On the other hand, every coffin is exposed to view, when a tomb is opened for a new comer. On such occasions, we have, sometimes, full employment, in driving away idlers, who gather to the spot, to gratify a sickly curiosity, or to steal whatever may be available, however "sacred to the memory," &c. The tomb is left open, for many hours, and, not unfrequently, over night, the mouth perhaps slightly closed, but not secured against intruders. During such intervals, the dead are far less protected from insult, and the espionage of idle curiosity, than the contents of an ordinary toy-shop, by day or night. Fifty years ago, curiosity led me to walk down into a vault, thus left exposed. No person was near. I lifted the lid of a coffin--the bones had nearly all crumbled to pieces--the skull remained entire--I took it out, and, covering it with my handkerchief, carried it home. I have, at this moment, a clear recollection of the horror, produced in the mind of our old family nurse, by the exhibition of the skull, and my account of the manner, in which I obtained it. "What an awful thing it would be," the dear, good soul exclaimed, "if the resurrection should come this very night, and the poor man should find his skull gone!" My mother was informed; and I was ordered to take it back immediately: it was then dark; and when I arrived at the tomb, in company with our old negro, Hannibal, to whom the office was in no wise agreeable, the vault was closed. I deposited the skull on the tomb, and walked home in double quick time, with my head over my shoulder, the whole way. I relate this occurrence, to show how motiveless such trespa.s.ses may be.

There is a morbid desire, especially in women, which is rather difficult of a.n.a.lysis, to descend into the damp and dreary tomb--to lift the coffin lid--and look upon the changing, softening, corrupting features of a parent or child--to gaze upon the mouldering bones; and thus to gather materials, for fearful thoughts, and painful conversations, and frightful dreams!

A lady lost her child. It died of a disease, not perfectly intelligible to the doctor, who desired a post mortem examination, which the mother declined. He urged. She peremptorily refused. The child was buried in the Granary ground. A few months after, another member of the same family was buried in the same vault. The mother, notwithstanding the remonstrances of her husband, descended, to look upon the remains of her only daughter; and, after a careful search, returned, in the condition of Rachel, who would not be comforted, because it was not. In a twofold sense, it was _not_. The coffin and its contents had been removed. The inference was irresistible. The distress was very great, and fresh, upon the slightest allusion, to the end of life. Cases of premature sepulture are, doubtless, extremely rare. That such, however, have sometimes occurred, no doubt has been left upon the mind, upon the opening of tombs. These are a few only of many matters, which are destined, from time to time, to be brought to light, upon the opening of _tombs_, and which are not likely to disturb the feelings of those whose deceased relatives and friends are committed to well-made _graves_. On all these occasions, ignorance is bliss.