The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1882-11-04
The ST. Bernard Morgue.


The ST. Bernard Morgue.
The great curiosity at the Monastery
of the Mount st. Bernard is the NOR
que. IF the day is a little warm the
brother who attends to visitors hesi-
tates bit before opening the door of
the wooden house just outside the
chief building. He first drives away
the dogs, who come pre- wing about,
snuffing the air suspiciously, and has
them shut into their room opposite
the huge refectory. Then he marshaIs
the little company of international
tourists in line before the mysterious
door, and opens the chamber OF hor-
rors. The keen mountain air rushes
ip, and presently you are conscious of
q faint, sickly odor--not strong enough
to be repulsiva, but eminently sugges-
tive of death. Then as you stand
there peerlng with strained eyebalIs
into the darkness, you become vaguely
conscious that face Is looking at you.
[ defy anyone who is possessed of the
smallest grain OF imagination to see
that mysterious face growing
slowly out of the obscurity
without sudden sinking of the
beart and a chill which no effort
q the will can suppress. It is the face
q woman-and yet of a ghost;
find of corporal presence Invested of
life, and yet SO horribly like life that
you are almost afraid the bony and
skinny frame to which it belongs will
arise and stretch out its dreadful arms.
and drag you down into the depths
which you so dist1nctiVely shun. The
good brother does not say anything;
he watches the effect of this curious
spectacle upon you. Pretty soon you
can discern that the face belongs to
the body of woman-and that this
woman is clasping TO her breast the
form of a tiny babe. The mother is
seated on the ground, and appears to
be dazed by the light pouring down
into her darksome habitation. But
oh the horror of her face! Here is
death without decay; here, in this
wondrous air, Oh this pass more than
eight thousand feet above the sea
level putrefaction is unknown and
bodies found in the SHOWS in winter
or after the white shroud has melted
away from the bosom of Nature in
the spring-are preserved entire so
long as the monks care to keep them.
The grimness of the spectacle is en-.
HANGED by the fact that nearly every
body found is contorted, twisted.
strained and knotted in fantastic
shapes. Now and then one which
bears all the appearance of tranquil
sleep is brought in but in most cases
there are indications that man and
woman, in their battle with Nature,
fought hard and desperately and re-
fused to be overcome until every par.
tlcle of force was exhausted. The
brethren gather up the bodies with
tender care and place them in thedead
house in the usually vain hope that
some relatives may come to recognize
them. Where is the father of the
child which this strange spectral
mother clasps in her arms? What
was the history of the woman who
had thus wandered in the wild winter
from the Rhone valley toward the
kinder and warmer Italian slopes
Perhaps her husband was with her
and perhaps his body now lies at the
bottom of some precipice where even
the "pious monks of Saint Bernard"
cannot find him-Or perhaps he is in
the dead house perhaps that PROSTATE
body, seemiEg to grovel on the rocky
floor his. The peasants rarely carry
any paper which can completely
identify them, and sometimes the un-
fortunates found dead in the pass here
led such wandering Hves-going to
Switzerland for harvest in the sum
mer and to Italy when the winter
nips them-that their passports ever
give no clew to their birthplaces or
genatise villas.