The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1876-02-02
THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.
Grace Greenwood Tells us NIL About Them
In the Most Interesting Manner.

THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.
Grace Greenwood Tells NIL About Them
In the Most Interesting Manner.
The famous catacombs of Paris will
always be subject Of interest. In
letter to the New York Times, Grace
Greenwood tells us about them as fol-
lows: Our party entered the catacombs
Mt the old Barriere d Enfef. At this
point each visitor, after being provided
with candle, dcscends nearly one hun
dred steps of dark winding stairway
to n narrow passage, damp, and of course
utterly dark. From here we walked
through q perfect labyrinth OF other
narrow passages, all doubly somber
from the heavy coating of candle smoke
on the rock overhead-walkedfor for nearly
half m hour before coming to the great
depository of bones. On each side, all
the way through the old quarries, opened
other archei passages, leading off into
awful distance and darkne's-ways
barred by chains or marked danger.
ous." We passed caverns like "drlfts'
in mines, and once we came upon a rail-
ing surrounding q pit, whose gloomy
depths we vainly sought to sound with
the trembling lights of our candles. 10
those in the rear the effects of the long
line of lights Pickering, waving, passing
in and ont OF the dark arches, winding
and doubling, was sometimes strangely
weird and awful. All felt oppressed by
the great darkness and silence which we
were 80 boldly invading. For our part,
we were inclined to speak low, and to
watch anxiously each her bit of candle,
for no friendly echoes of our voices came
back from the gloomy passages, only
dull, warning roar, and the heavy
night, beaten back for little space by
our tapcrs, seemed about to rush upon
and overwhelm them and us. Surely
there is difference between the dark
ness of ever so somber n spot which
at some time has known daylight and
that of place which no ray Of sunshine
has ever reached. The darkness here
was of the kind which "can be felt
something menacing, sullen, almost
savage-a hopeless, blind night, which
never dreamed of the day. So somber
and solitary, 80 uneerthly, though
earthly, was all this weary, winding way,
bordered with gloom and mystery, that
it was positive relief when we reached
the ossuary.
Here, Mt least, were the representatives
of what had once been life; for in these
long, wide galleries, these subterranean
streets and courts are gathered the
bones OF 100000 human beings-the
yellow harvest of time, OF. pestilence,
and of revolution. In these dismal
couliSseS stand silent at last the actors
of many a fearful tragedy of French his
tory; but out of those eyeless sockets
stares such q strange look OF watching
and waiting and fellowship that it nl-
most seems as though they are ready to
rush back on the stormy scene and take
up again the roles of the conspirator
and the revolutionist. This gigantic
Golgotha, this mighty magazine OF
death, is arranged with frightfnl regu-
larity and system. It seems to mo that
it forms sort of ghastly complementto
the city overhead. The great passages
are named after the streets and boule-
wards whose course they follow, and
suggest, by Tho contrasts of stiffness,
darkness, and immutability, the uproar,
the brightness and the rush Of the busy
day above. They suggest, with more
overpowering force, the great, the dread
mystery of death which forever under
lies ou life. Here, beneath beautiful
churches, fragraLt with incense, gor-
geous with pictures and marbles, be
meath affairs bright with tapers, and
cleaning with golden vessels and cruci-
fixes, are chnpel-like chambers. cut in
the rock, whose air is heavy with the
odor of mortality, whose ceilings are
darkly frescoed with smoke, on whose
rough columns are solemn Inscriptions
in black lettering, whose walls bear
crosses of skulls, set in mosaics of bones.
There is even shown here singular col
lection, arranged by celebrated sur
geon, of diseased boncs--a sort OF
osscous hospital.
The catlcombs were consncrhted as
burial place before the first revolution,
but the boues--bronght from thrvarions
cemeteries by night i'll funeral cars, with
religious rites-wcre 'silot down a shaft
and LETT in mighty intlistingusiable
heap. 1t WAS not till the time Of Napo-
lcon-the man Of lnen to bring order
ont of chaos and to discipline even death
that the present system was adopted
and tine mass of comingled mortal re-
mains ranged into ranks. Since then
inscriptions have been placed over every
new section, telling when and from what
cemetery they were removed. This is
all the distinction now. Here only is
real equality nrI fraternity. Here, side
by side, ere heads which once toilcd Mt
the great problems of science and hut
mauity, and heads that once plotted
small thcfts and assassinatjons; heads
that once wore coronets, heads that fell
under the knife OF the guillotinc, heads
once pillowcd OH the breasts OF princes,
heads that have lain on the black slab
of tho morgue. Here are skeleton
hands that were once soft and fair and
glittering with jewels; strong hands,
once dripping with blood; cunning
hands of musicians, rude hands of exc
cutioneers; feet which marched in ali
the campaigns of Napoleon, feet that
trampel tho weary ways of want, feet
that have gone on pious pilgrimages. feet
that have danced ut tho Mabille. Pom
palour may here have mingled hcrbones
with those of some gentle sister of
I