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 mass 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 François 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 unsurpassed—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 encumbrance. 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 à une profession particulière, 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 mass of human remains, to be removed from the Cemetery des Innocens. A portion of the quarries, lying under the Plaine de Mont Souris, was assigned, 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 masses, 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 passage 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 album, 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.