I Have Seen the Empire of Death & It’s Not What I Expected
During my trip to Paris recently, one of the activities I chose was the Paris Catacombs. I’ve read about the catacombs for years and how…
During my trip to Paris recently, one of the activities I chose was the Paris Catacombs. I’ve read about the catacombs for years and how you could see piles of bones stacked into designs, so, unlike my family, I somewhat knew what to expect. However, nothing can prepare you for the macabre, dark, and quiet existence of millions of bodies worth of bones in the caves beneath Paris.
WARNING: The Images in this article are likely NSFW and some readers may find them disturbing.
Hundreds of years ago, the Romans began to mine limestone from underneath one of their towns located in what is now Paris, France. After the Roman empire fell, and France became a kingdom, the digging continued. The Limestone was used to build buildings, statues, and sold to other parts of the world. As the centuries went by, these old caves began to serve another purpose as well — as a cemetery.
You see, Paris grew into a large town rather quickly and the cemeteries were full. So, rather than carry the bodies further out of town, the Parisians decided to, instead, throw them into the old mines. Eventually, two problems arose.
First, the stench of the bodies became so great in parts of the city, milk would sour within a day and bread would mold soon after. The second, and more worrisome, was the collapse of a portion of a streets in 1777. Soon the King understood something had to be done. So, he ordered all bodies moved into a more stable and far away section of the mines and the construction of reinforcements to the cave walls itself.
All of the bodies were blessed during transport by local priests and bishops. More shocking, to me, was not the entire situation, but what comes next.
One of the gentlemen in charge decided as the bodies were being relocated, to stack them into designs and alters. More insane, was the King and rest of Paris loved this idea.
The following photos are their work.
I cannot express the magnitude of the catacombs and the number of bones used to create these designs. It’s estimated there are over 6 million bodies worth of dead Parisians inside the walls.
Children, adults, famous celebrities, and even the catacomb lead designer is there.
Every corner for over half a kilometer contained hallway after hallway of thousands of skulls, femurs, and tibias. Whatever remains couldn’t be stacked neatly into designs were discarded on top of each pile.
Of course, vandalism also found its way into the caves. Some designs were missing their centerpiece skull, or a long leg bone had been moved out of place. Some had simply collapsed under the weight of the bones on top or perhaps someone stood to close and cracked it open.
Having walked down 150 stairs, deep below the city streets, subway, and plumbing, the catacombs are perfectly quiet if not for the sounds of tourists walking and snapping photos. Even my three children, who are normally fairly loud, typical, Americans, were somber and reserved.
While walking through this twisted maze of death, I realized something, though.
These monuments are not a celebration of death or a wish to dishonor those who have lived and died in a glorious city, but a celebration of their life!
I thought about my own life and how it will end. Will my loved ones destroy my body and turn me into ash as if I hadn’t existed at all? Will I become a tree in the ground or the water in the ocean? Or, perhaps, I’ll be buried in a box in some field only to be rained on, dug up, and moved to another field after 100 years or so. There won’t be a celebration or honoring of my remains after my family leaves this world, either.
But for the millions of Parisians who died here? They will be celebrated for hundreds of years to come! Protected from the elements and from most human manipulation, their spirits can rest knowing we honor them and their lives. Humans in the future will know they existed and be able to see them.
In my belief system, Taoism, death is part of the natural back and forth of creation. You did not exist, you exist, and then you return to not existing. The cycle will continue for you as it does for all things in a constant turning of Yin and Yang. Death becomes life which becomes death again.
Seeing these bones piled and stacked, they almost seem to sneak away from this cycle. Because, in a way, they are not truly dead. In fact, they are more alive than most of the billions of humans who have come before or will come after them.
I’m reminded of a story from the Taoist text, Zhuangzi, where Zhuangzi morns the death of his wife.
When Zhuangzi’s wife died and Hui Shi came to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi squatting with his knees out, drumming on a pan and singing. “You lived with her, she raised your children, and you grew old together,” Hui Shi said. “Not weeping when she died would have been bad enough. Aren’t you going too far by drumming on a pan and singing?”
“No,” Zhuangzi said. “When she first died, how could I have escaped feeling the loss? Then I looked back to the beginning before she had life. Not only before she had life but before she had form. Not only before she had form, but before she had vital energy. In this confused, amorphous realm, something changed and vital energy appeared; when the vital energy was changed, form appeared; with changes in form, life began. Now there is another change bringing death. This is like the progression of the four seasons of spring and fall, winter and summer. Here she was, lying down to sleep in a huge room, and I followed her sobbing and wailing. When I realized my actions showed I hadn’t understood destiny, I stopped.”
So, if you ever visit Paris, please go tour the catacombs. But when you go, don’t be scared, sad, or grossed out. Instead, celebrate the millions of lives before you and their fantastic home.
