The bodies of the dead are deposited in vaults or tombs, as they are
called; yet all above ground, as it is impossible to dig a grave in
consequence of meeting water within a few inches of the surface of
the ground. There is, however, a ridge of land about three miles from
the city which is occupied for a burial ground, where the poor and
the slaves are put in holes about two feet deep, and this is called
the “Potter’s Field.” The old French depository for the dead lies in
rear of the centre of the city, on the skirt of the swamp, yet it is
surrounded by dwellings, and may be considered as a _part_ of the city.
And a more gloomy, deathly, and pestiferous place cannot be found
within the range of the civilized globe. And why such arrangements
for disposing of the dead should be permitted, is a matter of great
astonishment to any one who can reason from cause to effect. For there
immediately within the heart and centre of that city, above ground,
inclosed only in brick walls, lay thousands and tens of thousands of
bodies in every possible stage of decomposition that can be presented.
And the odor from these vaults in hot weather is perceptible a great
distance, and near by is almost suffocating. And such is the stench
within the inclosures that it brings on the most deathly and horrid
sickness. And yet this is in New Orleans, and there it lies, and I know
of no more proper place for such an arrangement, so “divil take the
hindmost,” as that is the rule by which all are governed. Consequently
no matter what exists around them. These grounds are about a mile in
length and fifty or sixty rods wide. They are divided into three parts,
all of which are enclosed in a solid wall of brick masonry about ten
feet wide and nine feet high. In these long ranges of walls are holes
resembling an oven, just large enough to slide in one coffin. When the
coffin is put in, the opening is filled up with brick laid in mortar,
and a small marble slab is also put in, cut on purpose to the shape
of the opening, on which is the name and age of the deceased, and any
other device the friends may think proper to add. From the bottom of
the wall close to the ground is the first opening or vault, and upwards
one directly over the other are four, and thus in the whole surface of
the side and cross walls, as thick as can be allowed, are these “holes
in the wall,” as they are usually jokingly spoken of, making _graves_
for thousands and tens of thousands who are being constantly swept
into them by the besom of destruction, made up from the malaria, the
effluvia, from the swamps and city. And to render the _dose_ complete,
the exhalation from this great charnel house, this mass of corruption
and death, is mingling with the sirocco that is pouring in upon them
from every point, and is drank down by the living mass who tread those
streets as greedily as though it was the vital principle of their
existence. These receptacles for the dead belong to the city, and each
vault is rented for the term of twenty-five years for fifty dollars.
At the expiration of that time, if not re-rented by the friends of the
deceased, it is opened, and all that remains of what was once life and
animation, bearing the impress and image of its maker, is scraped out,
thrown together with the remains of hundreds of others, and burned up.
And thus in ashes lie mingled in one common mass the rich and the poor,
the proud and haughty aristocrat, and the low and humble plebian--the
hard and iron frame of the daring mariner, and the lovely and beautiful
form of the bright eyed and laughing girl.
The ground inclosed within the several walls is more than one hundred
acres, and is divided into small plots, generally about ten feet long
and five wide. On these are built single vaults or those large enough
for five or six persons. Those belonging to individuals or families
are never disturbed. There are some receptacles of this kind built on
a larger plan, from thirty to forty feet square, and twenty to thirty
feet high, and large enough to contain upwards of an hundred vaults.
These are built by societies or military companies, and some of them
are beautiful splendid structures. There are also some elegant family
tombs built of the finest Italian marble and costing an immense sum.
The most perfect and beautiful one in architectural structure and
design, is said to have cost upwards of forty thousand dollars. It
contains six vaults, three on each side of a niche, which is open on
the front, and the walls on each side contain the vaults or openings
just large enough to slide in a coffin. In the niche are arranged some
of the most perfect specimens of Italian sculpture from the hands
of the best artists of the age, representing the Savior, the Virgin
Mary, and several other symbols of the Romish church. As a receptacle
for the dead it is without exception the most imposing and forcible
appeal to the heart of the living that can be contemplated. And while
standing before it in all the perfection of art and science and the
genius of man, an awe of awful sublimity steals over the soul, hushes
every earthly thought, while those “silent and impressive lecturers,”
the image of our Savior, surrounded by types of the heavenly hosts,
and though presented by the cold and speechless marble, yet tell us
in language too plain to be misunderstood, that all the desires and
anticipations of the heart will end as a weary care, and when summed
up in the substance and riches of this world they can never enter the
portals of the tomb.