The Sun.
London, England, 1849-09-06 00:00:00

SPIRIT of the PUBLIC '3-O LS.
FROM THE MORNING PAPERS OF THIS DAY.
TIMES.—The question has often been asked since
'Nile prorogation, what is there to be done next session ?
We are at no loss for more than one answer; but without
looking round for less pressing necessities, there is one
thing which must be done, and, we are persuaded, will
be done, and that is, the total prohibition of intramural
burial in populous towns. The time has arrived when
all:other considerations must be merged in that of the
public safety. London at this moment exhibits the
climax of the greatest nuisance ever tolerated by man.
We say this advisedly. Never—nowhere in any nation
or clime, has there occurred such a fact as that which is
row occurring. It is an event absolutely unparalleled,
that a city should be burying, week by week, nearly
3,000 human caresses within itself, by far the greater
part of them in cemeteries already too crowded, hemmed
in by dwelling-houses, opening upon our thoroughfares,
and surrounding our places of worship. We repeat that
it is the only instance history can produce of
2,796 corpses being deliberately committed to the
soil whereon we live, and within our daily haunts,
the halitus of which we breathe, and the drainage
of which to some extent ee use—in the space of one
week. If the portentous fact of last week is to be sur-
passed, it will only be by the still more poi tentous result
of the resent when that hall come to be kown.
We chapllenge a denial. There have been sleuehtenrs in
the field of bate le; and when we read of regiments
mowed down by artillery or left in the breach, the mind
naturally looks forward to the ghastly scene that re-
mains when the battle is over. We inquire what he-
comes of the dead? We are told of a rough burial in
trenches; and we imagine bloody dews. rank grass and
bleaching bones. Quis non Latino pinyuior campus
sanguine? said the Roman poet. We are apt to imagine
Waterloo, first, a sickening heap of carnage; then, a
rough graveyard; then, a putrid plain. But we are now
every week performing in the midst of our metropolis the
same hideous task which devolved on the survivors of
that day. We are burying every week more than were
slain on the British side on June 18, 1815. We
are burying every week nearly as many as pe-
rished, both British and natives, in the passes of
Caubul, and whose corses marked that hideous track to
their tardy avengers in the ensuing summer. But even
if we take a far greater slaughter—Borodino or Leip-
sic itself—what is the burial of any number, once for
all on a vast steppe, compared with the weekly packing
of three thousand bodies in a few acres of land in the
midst of one city? Familiarity alone blunts our horror
at the fact, but it is the familiarity of gravedigger&
Familiarity enables men to lire on a volcano, or a marsh,
and enables us to live, with equal unconcern, amid the
reeking remains of human myriads. It would be vain
to look for a parallel in any other city, for no other is
so populous; and in no considerable city out of these
islands does there exist the general practice of intra-
mural-burial. As soon as we cross the Channel we find
every populous town provided with one or more ceme-
teries outside the walls, or beyond the continuous line
of dwellings. Such is the ancient custom of the Church,
and when our churchyards were first consecrated, they
were generally in the outskirts of the town, and, in fact,
inclosed from the fields. Whenever a pestilence broke
out, and a more than common mortality ensued, a tempo-
rary burial-ground was provided at a still greater distance
from the town. On this day five hundred years ago the
plague was desolating this metropolis, and the site of
what is now the Charter-house, near Smithfield, but still
further out of the city, was set apart for the burial of the
victims. The actual rate of mortality was not greater in
that year than it is now. There is hardly a town in this
kingdom where the same care was not taken, and where
you are not shown to this day the plague burial-ground.
It is reserved for the enlightened nineteenth century,
always boasting of its improvements, to make no provi-
sion for the ravages of a pest, and make burial. grounds
in the heart of our cities—already insufficient, and
scandalously crowded—suffice for a trebled mortality.
It is impossible to walk a mile in any part of this metro-
polis without being reminded that a pest reigns around
us. We see what the poet callsfunera volgo. No sooner
has one funeral procession passed by, or one returning
body of mourners been lost in the throng, than another
comes in view. If we track the sad route we arrive at
some burial-ground, busy with undertakers. On casting
the eye over these gloomy enclosures we are sure to
see a dozen or two fresh graves, and four or five
still yawning for their destined occupants. Among
them is generally one of ominous capacity. We
have not the means of telling the numbers
now daily crowded into each burial-ground, and it
is among the many scandalous omissions of our muni-
cipal laws that the public cannot know whether ten
bodies or fifty were consigned last week to any given
burial-ground, but any one who chooses to explore for
himself will see enough to provoke the most painful ap-
prehensions. Many of these places are too notorious to
be mentioned, and every day our attention is called by
our correspondents to others as bad. •' I would earnestly
draw your attention," says an inhabitant of Lambeth,
" to a monster nuisance in our parish, which has escaped
the vigilance of your reporters. I allude to the Lambeth
burial-ground at the corner of Paradise-street, near the
church. In this little spot there are thrust from 20 to
40 bodies every Sunday, independently of the week-day
and workhouse burials. The smell of the ground when
the graves are opened is intolerable." The passengers
in Tottenham-court-road may sue something of this kind
in the burial-ground, heaving till it threatens to engulph
the Tabernacle in that street. But London is full of
such instances. It is impossible not to fear that we aro
poisoning the site of this mstrapolie and sowing the
seeds of perpetual malaria. What if London, like old
Rome, must someday be deserted as no longer habitable?
The invariable fate of private measures leaves on the
Government the responsibility of action. The health of
millions is too serious a mater to be risked on the firm-
ness of a Mackinnon or even on the peEsive sympathie s
of the Legislature. We must not have a Bill introduced
in an able speech, hailed with a general unanimity, post-
poned for three months, scoffed at by an Osborne, and
then thrown over to another year. Sir George Grey is
the only man in a position to carry the measure. and he
ought to undertake it. Between this and next February
there is ample time to draw up a Bill. It is a matter of
life and death to those who are compelled to live in this
city, and its most crowded regions. No half measure
will suffice. Prohibit burials altogether except in ceme-
teries remote from populous districts.
ADVERTISER.—It is with a sort of regret that we
revert again to the Hungarian question. It is sad to
write on a subject which has so materially changed in
its aspects. So long as there were hopes, however
feeble, that the Hungarians might accomplish their in-
dependence, we took a pleasure in again and again re-
curring to the question. All hopes of such a result
have vanished, and we feel in now writing on Hungarian
affairs, as if we were penning the epitaph of that noble
nation. But a sense of duty must overcome all con-
siderations of mere feeling. While anything can yet be
done for the brave Magyars, we must dispense with
purely sentimental effusions, and endeavour to do it.
And what we thus say for ourselves we say for our
country. Something may yet be done for the Hunga-
rians, and England must at least endeavour to do it.
They are now entirely at the mercy of their united foes.
They lie helpless at the feet of Russia and Austria. Let
it be the great object of the English Government to try
and make the best possible terms for them. We believe
that much service may, in this way, be rendered to
the Magyars. And to enable Lord Palmerston to
do it all the more effectually, it is necessary that
he should be fortified in any application be may
make for clemency to them by the universally and
strongly expressed voice of public opinion. There is a
danger of the two despotic Powers, at whose feet Hun-
gary pow lies prostrate, treating that country as they,
in conjunction with Prussia, treated Poland. What the
treatment was which Poland received at the hands of
this trio of absolute monarchs it is not necessary that
we should say. The foul deed lives in the indignant
remembrance of all the friends of justice and liberty.
The partition of Poland is an atrocity which will never
be obliterated from the minds of the present generation;
it will live for ever in the page of history. What Rus-
sia, Austria, and Prussia did in the case of poor Poland,
the two former would be quite prepared to repeat in the
case of Hungary. They would cut it up into fragments,
and then divide the spoil between them in such a way as
might be agreed on. France and England must prevent
this. They must raise their voices against it. Europe
has suffered severely from the partition of Poland; there
has been no genuine concord, no cordial friendship, no
real peace, among its leading Powers since the enormous
crime was committed. Any partition of Hungary
would be still more fatal to European tranquillity.
It would be incompatible with a general peace.
We need not waste words in proving this. No one
will question it who has paid any attention to European
affairs, and comprehends the relations which Hungary
bears to other countries. It therefore England,behoves
and we cannot doubt that France will cordially
_ Co-
operate with her, to interpose her friendly officeson
disastroushehalf ef
t the
er
Magyars,esuleosftilplr—evFenetteingso
If with
Hungarythe view of
Lord Palmerston take care that
sove-
reignty of Austria, let
hav-
ing in the meantime so willed it—be under the n
can hold out the hope of
rightsse-
curing to which she has a constittz-
inthe hour of
enuorug effort
to
ob
he
erneglectedthose
the
Noble Lord urge on the young
tional claim.
triumph which
Czarwhhaicvhe
haechiceavnedpfuorrsuheini,
wweillabree
victory,
andOf Austria rela ttheaint ttohebuesclement
e
strongly impressed with the conviction that he will not
reason and
theth e oenoly""sohuenecif policythe
remonstrate in vain. His representations
will be listened to, and at least some little remnant
of Hungarian independence be left. Hungary
may remain under the dominion of Austria,
and yet have conceded to her many rights
and privileges peculiar to herself—just as Scotland,
though forming an integral part of Great Britain, has
privileges and laws peculiar to herself. To enable Lord
Palmerston to interpose, with effect, the friendly offices
of England on behalf of the Magyars, it will, as before ob-
served, be necessary that the people of England should,
in the strongest manner, express their friendship for
that gallant people. Let Russia and Austria learn the
great truth, that it is no part of the English character
to take part with a people struggling fbr their rig
so long as there are grounds to anticipate their triumph,
and then to forsake them when they have fallen beneath
E the power of their enemy. England is a too generous
her sympathies would be all the ater, and her friend-
ship-rseecm overpowered by
country for that. For such a people as the Magyars g
superior numbers. The
the stronger, when she sah
country
bleeds of this -y
bleeds for the gallant Hungarians. England
feels more deeply attached to them than ever.
Their reverses only strengthen her friendship.
Already we
discern indications of the commence-
ment of a great movement to strengthen the hands of -
Palmerston in his mediatory offices on behalf of Lord
the Hungarians. On Monday evening a great meeting
was held in Greenwich in favour of the Magyars, when
the wishes expressed by Lord Dudley Stuart for public
demonstrations on their behalf, met with so hearty a
response as to leave no doubt that the people of England

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