The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1822-11-13 00:00:00

THE VAULTS OF ST. MICH,:N'S.

prota Millar Mootlay littoodwo, for November ]

. .
-" 1110traa1ioerally konero that the metropolis of
0.41111410 binsi a very singular subtertameous cu-
t! whteli, from the chemical
prentlettirs of the toil, Net* with a certain embistrussrie
iolluerters upon the bodies deposited within it. I
sareok of the vinits beneath St. Michan's Church ;
• veerte where these who hove the firmness to go
stolen sent look death in the face will Ap(l. au in-
stetsetive commentary upon the doctrine4ll moral
beemliation that are pertorbeally preached shove.
Y. u descend, hr a pw steps, into • long and
narrow passage that rine across the site of the
church; upno each defy there are excavated ample
Nreeivee, in which the dead are laid. There is no-
thing offensive iu the atmosphere to deter you from
stotoritig. The tint thing that strikes you is to find
Stoat sleepy has been more busy with the tenement
thee' the tenant. In some instances the coffins have
'her nisappeered ; in others, the lids or rides
nrouldered away. exposing the remains within.,
•P wusubdued by death from their original form.
:sallike the greet conqueror of flesh sod blood, stud of
%Moan pride. is not to be baffled with impunity.
:Wain his mercy is dreadful. It is • poor privilege
se .be permitted to hold together fur a century or so.
•cti4 your o an tumbles in about your ears, and
then to re-appear, half skeleton, half mummy,
crewed to the gazes of a generation that can know
anteing rd your name sod character beyond the
prosoug teadmou of some morelizingsestoo. Among
them remnants of humanity, for instance, there is
the body of a pions gentlewoman, who, while she
eontiourd above ground, shunned the eyes of men
to the reemors of • convent. But the veil of death
has not bee* respected. She stands the very first
no the memo's list of posthumous rarities, and one
of the meat valnable appendages of less office. She is
?us boned treasure. Her sapless cheeks yield him a
larger rent than some acres of 'rabic land : end.
what NI worse, now that she cannot repel the imps-
tatiors, he culls her to her fare "The Old -Nun."
In ennt of fact, l nuclei-stn.:el that her age was one
bundled and eleven, not including the forty years
that have elapsed since her second burial in St.

&Otis, as has been often ohsrrvrd, is a thorough
I,
aid levels all distinctions. It is so in this
place. Beside the Null there sleeps, not a vener.
• ale shbess, o► timid novice, or meek and holy
friar, but an athletic young felon of the 17th cen-
tury, who had shed a brother's blood, and was
sentenced for the offence to the close custody of St.
&lichsn's vaults. This was about one hundred and
thirty years ago. The offender belonged to■ family
at some consideration. which accounts for his bring
fiend in such respectable society.
The preservative quality of these walls is various
in its operation than subjects of different ages and
votiwitutions. With regard to the latter, however,
it does not appear that persons who had been tern.
pirate livers enjoy anj peculiar privileges. The
departed toper resists deci as sturdily as the as-
retie; supplying Captain Morris with another
reason fair. to till his glass spin." But it is
Itimertained that children are decomposed almost as
.sapidly here as elsewhere. Of this. a touching
iilleatratinia occurs in the case of a female who died

*4 about a century ago, and was depo-
lkited to St. Michels's. Her infant was laid in her
• aka'. The mother is still tolerably perfrct ; exem•
pifyiog, by her attitude, the parental 4, passion
Amply. in rlestli;" but the child has long rioce
usgits4 noisy from her embrace. I inqui.er! her
moil trairitherr mortified to find that it has
sot been preretord.
sut I WAS chiefly affected by the relics of two
rpersnno. of whom the world has unfortunately
• hoard too meteh—the ill-fated brothers, Joh., and
'Henry Sheures. I had been told that they were
kfre, and the torment the light of the toper fell
Ammo the spot they occupy, I quickly recognised
• by one or two circumstances that forcibly re-
called the close of thcir career: the headless trunks.
frost the remains of the coarse, unadorned, penal

shells. to which it seemed necessary to public jus-
tice that they should be consigned. Henry's head
was lying by his brother's side; John'. had oot
been completely detached by the blow of the exe-
cotioner: one of the ligaments of the neck still
connects it with the body. I knew nothing, of these
victims of ill-limed enthusiasm, except from histo-
rical report; but the companion of my visit to
these grave had been their contemporary and friend,
sod he paid their memories the tribute of some
Leers; which. even at this distance of time. it
would not be prudent to shed in • less privileged
place. He lingered long beside them, and seemed
to find it sad gratification in raiding several par.
voila.* connected with their fates. Many of the
ecerdotes that he mentioned have been already
published. Two or three that interested me. I had
net heard before. "It was not to be expected,"
he said, " that such a man as John Shearer could
have escaped the destiny that betel him. His
doom was fixed several years before his death. His
passion for freedom. as he understood it. was incu-
rable; for it was consecrated by its association with
soother passim,. to which every thing seemed justi-
fiable. You have heard of the once celebrated
Mademoiselle Therousue. John Sheyre6 was in
Palle et the commeocement of the Revolution, and
was introduced to her. She was an extraordioary
creature; wild, imperious. and isotonic in her pat-
mitre paroxysm.; but, iu her netural intervals, •
laimurtiful and is.ctilating woman. He became
deeply enamoured or her. and nut the less so for
the pellucid enthaelasai that would have levelled
another. I tease beard that he assisted in the um-

form of the national gourd at the storming of the
Beattie, and that he encountered the p.rtl as •
mewls of recommending himself to the ohjrct of
his admiration. She returned that sentiment, but
As would not listen to lei suit. When he tendered
• proposal of marriage, she produced • pitta I, and
tbre•tened to.lay bitn'tiesd if he renewed the sub-
ject. This I had from himself. But her rigour
sot ►=tiugutsh his passion. He returned to
Ireland full of her image, mud, I suspect, nut with-
' east a hope that the success of the fatal enterprise
to which he embarked might procure him, at a
lata►e day, e. more fstProtrable hearing ; but of this
nod all his other boors. you see (pointing to his
►emain+F, the lamentable issue." I naked whether
Ins mistress hid heard his fair, and how she bore it.
RV (mad replied. " When I sal at Paris, during

the üboet wee of A mites. I :Air d the urn" ques-
tion, but I met with is" one tied had perw►rwlly
known her. St'e was then loving ; in • misditaosi,
however. to which death would hemp been 1006-
able She was in a moirrebie state of itiaanity, and
conflated ill • 011611 C Ilis,lliihott. johil Shrives,"
he continned," flung himself lotto the revs lutioaary
cause Irons loiliciple anti temperament ; but Henry
wooed the energy of • Cnllap•nNor : of this he was
forewarn►d by an incid►nt that 1 know to have oc-
cnrrod. Shortly atter lo- hail taken the oath of an
LToited lripliiiiiin (it wino toward■ the cloi.e of the
year 1797), hr was present at 11w election for the
city of Uubliii; it not took piece at the hiptings,
the military interfered, mid the pimple fled in con-
fusion : a tredesmaii, who residerl m the vicinity,
hearing the shouts, hustil) moved towards the spot
to inquire the caw. Tlw brat proem he met was
Henry Shears, pallid, treswolme, and almost gasp-
ing for breath. He ask►d what hart haopetted ;
Sheares, with looks and tones imprirting extraor-
dinary lierturbation, implored him, if he valued his
life. to turn back. II WAD with some difficulty that
the inter►ogato► conk) oht4ito so intelligible •ecount
of the cause and extent of the dancer. As won as
he had a►certained the fact, lie fixed hi. eye on
Sit , and said. ' Mr. Sh , I know more of
some matters than yon may he aware of; take a
friend's advice, and has,. no snore to do with politics;
you have not nerves. Sir, for the business you have
engaged in.' Bat the infatuation of the times, and
the influence of his brother's character and example
prevailed. When the catastrophe eitrue,John Sheares
felt, when tow late, that he should have offered the
same advice. This reflection imbittered his last
moments. It elm called forth some generous traits
that deserve to be remembered. His appeal to the
court in behalf of his brother, as given in the
report of the trial, is • model of natural pathos;
but I know of nothing more pathetic in conduct
than a previous scene, which Curran once described
to tue as he had witnessed it. When Curran visited
them in prison to receive instructions fur their de-
feece, John Sheares rushed forward, and embracing
his knees, implored him to intercede for Henry;
for himself, he offered to plead guilty; to die at an
hour's notice; to reveal all that he knew. with the
exception of names; to do any thing that might be
fairly required of him, provided the Government
would consent to spare his brother."
The preserving power of the vaults of St. Mi.
clisn's was long ascribed by popular superstition to
the peculiar holine►s of the ground, but modern
philosophy has unwrought the miracle, by explain.
tog. on chemical principles, the cause of the phe-
nomenon: " Water is • sore dr toyer of your whore-
s• 11 dead body." The walls and soil of these vaults
' abound with carbouate of lime and argillaceous
earth ; a compound that absorb, the moieure which
is necessary to the potrefactive process. In all
weathers the place is perfectly flee from damp.
The consequence is, that animal matter exposed to
ouch an atmosphere, though tt undergoes important
chemical changes, and stem ceases to be strictly
flesh, yet retains, for a length of time. its external
propoitioos. I had occasion to observe a circum-
stance that proves the uncommon dryness of the
air. Ooe of the recesses, which is lessened up. is
the burial-place of a [wide family. Ott looking
through the grating of the door, we 1111 M two or
three coronets glittering from the remote extremity
of the cell, as brightly us if they hid been polished
up the day before. The anemias,' assured us that
it was more than a year since airy one had entered
the place. He inserted a taper wirten the grating
to give us a fuller view, when his statement war
corroborated by the appearauce of ail ample canopy of
er.bweb.'extending from wall to wall of this chamber
of death. and which it insist have coat the artificers
many a weary dry and night to weave. A curtain
of the same sepulchral gauze overhung the spot
where the Shearesea rest.
I had seen the catacombs of Paris, but I was
more interested, and made to feel more for others
and myself, in the vaults of S.. Michan's. lii the
eatacombs the eye or the heart fiirds nnthing indi-
vidual to rest upon ; your sympathy is dispersed
over myriads of anonymous skull, sod thigh-bones,
and these fantastically arranged into melodramatic
combinations, as if the Graces have ■ny business
under gronnd; and after death has picked us to the
bone, our skeletons must be broken up and shuffled
into attitudes conforming to the immutable prin-
ciples of Parisian taste. I could never heave a sigh
while promenading between those neatly trimmed
hedge-rows of human bones; I thought, of and
pitied the workmen more than the materials. But
at St. Michan's I felt that I was really in • sepul-
chre. and surrounded by the dead. The very ab-
sence of neatness in their distribution, and of re-
spectful observance towards them, was • source of
instructive rrflexion, by forewarning me of my ces-
sation of personal importance when I shall cease to
breathe. Every kick the sexton gave • chance
skull or two that stopped the way, had its moral :
it was as good as the festive usage in old Egypt, of
handing round an image of death from guest to
guest, to the words of—
" Drink sod be merry, for such you shall Dr."
In the absence of such a custom now, I know of
nothing more calculated to bring down the pride of
any one that piques himself too much upon his flesh
and blood, thou an occasional conversation in a
church-yard with • sexton or gravedigger, on the
subject of their trade. It is very well es lung as a
man has a certain allowance of mind and must-Its at
his disposal, and can strut, and talk. and look big.
and hum fragments of bravuras, sod he seen now
and then in a tandem, and resort to the other me-
thods of comrnandiug wine deference to his l' rsonal
identity; but when once this important personage
becomes motioultes. cold, and tongue-tied. and.
unable to remonstrate, is seised by the undertaker.
and, as the Irish phrase is, •' is put to bed with e
shovel," farewell human respect !—" out of sight,
out of miud :" Ws epitaph, if he list !eft sleets to buy
one, may, for a while, keep up • little bustle about
his name, but a short dialogue with • sexton of
afiertime►, over the scattered fragments of his ex-
setence, will afford a pretty accurate measure of the
degree of real imignificauce into which he has sub-
sided. This is munifyitig; but it is among the
sources of our highest interests. Certainly, it is
ouly natural that we should look to some future
compensation fur our minds, in return for the many
insults their old companions are sure to sutra when
they ere out by to protect them: it were au ititoltr-
i able prospect otherwise. To-day to be active, happy,
aid ambition., co-•anus of being " made fur the