To change the subject from gay to grave. The Gottesacker of Munich is
called the finest cemetery in Germany; at least, it surpasses them in
the artistic taste of its monuments. Natural beauty it has none: it is
simply a long, narrow strip of ground inclosed in walls, with straight,
parallel walks running the whole length, and narrow cross-walks; and
yet it is a lovely burial-ground. There are but few trees; but the whole
inclosure is a conservatory of beautiful flowers. Every grave is covered
with them, every monument is surrounded with them. The monuments are
unpretending in size, but there are many fine designs, and many finely
executed busts and statues and allegorical figures, in both marble and
bronze. The place is full of sunlight and color. I noticed that it was
much frequented. In front of every place of sepulcher stands a small urn
for water, with a brush hanging by, with which to sprinkle the
flowers. I saw, also, many women and children coming and going with
watering-pots, so that the flowers never droop for want of care. At the
lower end of the old ground is an open arcade, wherein are some effigies
and busts, and many ancient tablets set into the wall. Beyond this is
the new cemetery, an inclosure surrounded by a high wall of brick, and
on the inside by an arcade. The space within is planted with flowers,
and laid out for the burial of the people; the arcades are devoted to
the occupation of those who can afford costly tombs. Only a small number
of them are yet occupied; there are some good busts and monuments, and
some frescoes on the panels rather more striking for size and color than
for beauty.
Between the two cemeteries is the house for the dead. When I walked
down the long central alle of the old ground, I saw at the farther end,
beyond a fountain, twinkling lights. Coming nearer, I found that they
proceeded from the large windows of a building, which was a part of the
arcade. People were looking in at the windows, going and coming to and
from them continually; and I was prompted by curiosity to look within.
A most unexpected sight met my eye. In a long room, upon elevated biers,
lay people dead: they were so disposed that the faces could be seen; and
there they rested in a solemn repose. Officers in uniform, citizens in
plain dress, matrons and maids in the habits that they wore when living,
or in the white robes of the grave. About most of them were lighted
candles. About all of them were flowers: some were almost covered
with bouquets. There were rows of children, little ones scarce a span
long,--in the white caps and garments of innocence, as if asleep in beds
of flowers. How naturally they all were lying, as if only waiting to be
called! Upon the thumb of every adult was a ring in which a string was
tied that went through a pulley above and communicated with a bell in
the attendant's room. How frightened he would be if the bell should ever
sound, and he should go into that hall of the dead to see who rang! And
yet it is a most wise and humane provision; and many years ago, there
is a tradition, an entombment alive was prevented by it. There are three
rooms in all; and all those who die in Munich must be brought and laid
in one of them, to be seen of all who care to look therein. I suppose
that wealth and rank have some privileges; but it is the law that the
person having been pronounced dead by the physician shall be the same
day brought to the dead-house, and lie there three whole days before
interment.
There is something peculiar in the obsequies of Munich, especially in
the Catholic portion of the population. Shortly after the death, there
is a short service in the courtyard of the house, which, with the
entrance, is hung in costly mourning, if the deceased was rich. The body
is then carried in the car to the dead-house, attended by the priests,
the male members of the family, and a procession of torch-bearers, if
that can be afforded. Three days after, the burial takes place from the
dead-house, only males attending. The women never go to the funeral;
but some days after, of which public notice is given by advertisement,
a public service is held in church, at which all the family are present,
and to which the friends are publicly invited. Funeral obsequies are as
costly here as in America; but everything is here regulated and fixed by
custom. There are as many as five or six classes of funerals recognized.
Those of the first class, as to rank and expense, cost about a thousand
guldens. The second class is divided into six subclasses. The third is
divided into two. The cost of the first of the third class is about four
hundred guldens. The lowest class of those able to have a funeral
costs twenty-five guldens. A gulden is about two francs. There are
no carriages used at the funerals of Catholics, only at those of
Protestants and Jews.
I spoke of the custom of advertising the deaths. A considerable portion
of the daily newspapers is devoted to these announcements, which are
printed in display type, like the advertisements of dry-goods sellers
with you. I will roughly translate one which I happen to see just now.
It reads, “Death advertisement. It has pleased God the Almighty, in his
inscrutable providence, to take away our innermost loved, best husband,
father, grandfather, uncle, brother-in-law, and cousin, Herr---, dyer of
cloth and silk, yesterday night, at eleven o'clock, after three weeks
of severe suffering, having partaken of the holy sacrament, in his
sixty-sixth year, out of this earthly abode of calamity into the better
Beyond. Those who knew his good heart, his great honesty, as well as his
patience in suffering, will know how justly to estimate our grief.” This
is signed by the “deep-grieving survivors,”--the widow, son, daughter,
and daughter-in-law, in the name of the absent relatives. After the name
of the son is written, “Dyer in cloth and silk.” The notice closes with
an announcement of the funeral at the cemetery, and a service at the
church the day after. The advertisement I have given is not uncommon
either for quaintness or simplicity. It is common to engrave upon the
monument the business as well as the title of the departed.