Parisian
Necropolis: L’ Empire de la Morte, The Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary
by Brian Schill
Not far below the City of Lights is another “city” – one of darkness, a city of
the dead. But what, really, is light without dark? In the human mind the duality
of all that we are is evident in our living – and our dying. Benjamin Franklin
was once quoted as saying “Show me how a people care for their dead and I can
tell you how they care for the living.” If it is the dead you wish to see, then
it is not I who need put them on display for you, they are already waiting for
you in the Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary – seven million of them.The Catacombs of
Paris, alternately known as l'Ossuaire Municipal contains the remains of around
seven million Parisians resting in its quietdarkness. The Catacombs, as they are
called by Parisians, are housed in a section of abandoned gypsum and limestone
quarries which were just outside of the city gates before the expansion of Paris
in 1860. It was not long after the inception of the Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary
that, in 1867, this massive underground repository for the deceased had been
open to the public both as a curiosity and as a reminder of their mortality.
So, just where did this massive population problem with the deceased stem from?
It began nearly ten centuries earlier in the churchyards within and surrounding
Paris. As the city grew and swallowed up more of the countryside and as the
population within the city surged burial space within Paris was had at a
premium. In time, mausoleum and cemetery plots became more and more scarce and
it was often necessary for the related dead to be buried two and three to a
grave to conserve space. For those who had less money, little political
influence or no family to look after their perpetual care the bodies were
usually moved out of their burial space to make way for the more recently
deceased – especially those who had more money and influence – and for those who
did not, well, their bodies were simply dumped into a mass grave and covered
over. The breaking point came late in the seventeenth century – the city
cemeteries had reached their limit and literally began to overflow with the
dead. Near Saint Eustace, in the Les Halles district near the middle of the
Paris, the Les Innocents cemetery became so overrun with the dead that the
people living in the nearby flats were suffering from all manner of disease due
to water and soil contamination caused by improper burials and open pits
containing mass graves. Finally, after what may have been hundreds of complaints
and more than a few deaths due to the deteriorating hygienic conditions in the
areas surrounding Les Innocents the Council of State, on November 9, 1785,
ordered the
cemetery closed and that all internments be immediately halted. Additionally,
the Council set forth a decree that all of the dead in the cemetery were to be
disinterred and moved to a new site, the Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary.
In prior decades the raw materials carved from the mines had been used to build
such impressive, world renowned monuments such as the Notre Dame cathedral, the
Louvre and other well known historic Parisian edifices. Throughout the
timeperiod that the limestone and gypsum mines were active the engineers
supervising the various subterranean projects haphazardly burrowed a meandering
maze underneath the city
creating an increasingly unstable working environment. Eventually the depletion
of natural resources and the dangerous conditions created by the instability in
the mine walls forced the closing of several of the quarries. Then, shortly
thereafter, along came an idea: there were miles upon miles of unused tunnels
under the city – and – there were millions of dead Parisians from centuries past
literally piling up in the streets. What to do? The quarries that had been
closed could be used for the storage of the bones of many of the long deceased
Parisians, surmised Police Lieutenant General Alexandre Lenoir. Now that there
was a tentative plan in place, and, with the cooperation of Inspector General of
Quarries, Charles Axel Guillaumot, the relocation plan could soon be given the
go ahead.
After a short period of political maneuvering, and with all of the powers that
be finally in agreement, the Archbishop of Paris blessed the quarries as a
consecrated burial ground. Once the blessing of the mines had been performed the
remains began to slowly trickle in to the Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary beginning on
April 7, 1786. The first arrivals at l'Ossuaire Municipal were individuals who
were disinterred from Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs cemetery. And so it went night
after night, the lonely darkened streets of Paris taken over by grave diggers
hauling black-veiled tipcarts filled with the remains of the long dead while in
front of and behind the carts were priests murmuring chants and singing hymns
for the deceased who were making the journey to their final resting place -
again. Flash forward nearly two and a half centuries. At the entrance to
the catacombs
now stands a sign that reads: Arrete! C'est ici L'Empire de la Morte! (Stop!
Here is the Empire of the Dead) and it is gravely honest in the most literal
sense. For those of you who know me, or at least follow my work, you know that
there is not very much that I find truly creepy, but the Denfert-Rochereau
Ossuary is without question one of those few rare places. It doesn’t hit you
immediately, though. As the visitor descends a narrow spiral staircase one first
comes upon a gallery featuring a variety of exhibits including photos and other
artifacts relating to the quarries from times past. Then, as you make your way
through the gallery you walk down a long tunnel to the entrance of the catacombs
and it is there where the first sense of where you are begins to creep in. This
is a place where the beautiful and the macabre come together in an eternal dance
of silence and stillness.
Upon entering the catacombs you are confronted by a corridor lined with walls
made of what appears to be small stones, but on closer inspection the “stones”
turn out to be the rotator ball of human femurs, thousands of them, stacked one
atop another. Descending further into the darkness the subterranean labyrinth is
eerily quiet save the occasional drip of water on bone or the hushed whisper of
tourists in this dimly lit sanctuary of the dead. Once you are fully immersed in
L'Empire de la Morte you find yourself in a one-way maze of artfully stacked
bones in all manner of design: pillars, bowls, arches, crosses and so forth. As
you make your way through the twisting darkness the narrow corridors and obscure
galleries are marked by plaques noting the name of the cemeteries from which the
bones were extracted. The darkness of the quarry wraps her arms around you it
then becomes obvious as to what is not present: all past accoutrements of life
are gone, all status, station, title and privilege are stripped with a certain
equality only found in death. Here there are no names, only empty skulls gazing
outward at you through eyeless sockets, holding their story in mute silence,
wishing they could speak, if only for a moment, to tell the tales that should be
told – the names and stories, experiences that comprised their lives so long
ago.
This is but a fleeting glimpse of what awaits those who enter the
Denfert-Rochereau Ossuary. There is much more I could say the about such a
place, but then again with around seven million Parisians buried here, I suppose
there will always be more to tell about l'Ossuaire Municipal. Of most recent
note, however, was the re-opening of the catacombs on April 21, 2008. Closed for
3 months in the beginning of 2008 the Catacombs Museum underwent some renovation
and modernization work on exhibits as well as the addition of lighting fixtures
and general maintenance that was supervised by“l’Inspection Générale des
Carrières” at a price of €5719,752 Euros ($1,022,048 - U.S.)
Should you find yourself in Paris you can brave the “Empire of the Dead” by
going to:
Address: 1, Avenue of Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy Paris, France, 75014
Car Parking is available at: Saint-Jacques Boulevard
