France Retrospective 5: The Catacombs

Paris is known as the City of Light, but it has its dark side. Many of those beautiful buildings aboveground are built of stone that was quarried belowground. Centuries of excavation left behind a vast system of underground tunnels and chambers.

As the city grew, it became evident that quarrying had to stop and the structures belowground had to be monitored and maintained to prevent cave-ins.

In the 1700's, when the need for expansion and fear of disease led to the removal of ancient cemeteries from the city's churchyards, where better to put the bones of the ancestors? The ground was duly consecrated, and cartloads of exhumed ancients were transported to this "place of eternal repose."

Shortly thereafter, the tours began.

We took the Metro--that modern "Underground" - to the Denfert-Rochereau station, found the Catacombs entrance, and descended a long spiral staircase into a dry, well-maintained tunnel. Somewhere along the line we viewed some exhibits in a series of small chambers.

As we walked along we noticed neat notations on the walls referencing the streets above. Tunnels branched off here and there, but these side-tunnels were all gated and locked. On the ceiling above us, a dark wavering line marked the route followed by tourists of an earlier era.



We were just as glad to have an unambiguous route marked out for us. The thought of touring here by torchlight reminded me of the chapter of Tom Sawyer where the two children are lost in the limestone caverns and watch in horror as their last candle flickers out in the darkness.

There was no real sense of claustrophobia in these tunnels. They are wide ,and as smoothly paved as many a French street. I did feel as if the ceiling was a little low for my comfort, and that may have come from a subconscious awareness of the weight of the city bearing down on these chambers.

Many repairs and reinforcements have been made to maintain the structural integrity of these tunnels. It must be interesting to be a public works official in a city this old.

All of this walking and atmospheric build-up was actually just a prelude to the main feature of the Catacombs. We arrived in a large chamber, scattered with exhibits commemorating various dead Parisians, presumably inhabitants of the tombs.

While scanning these plaques, I happened across la Princesse de Lamballe. For travel reading, I had chosen Antionia Fraser's biography of Marie Antoinette , so I immediately recognized this portrait of the Queen's friend. The familiarity of it set the tone for me--linking an abstract historical narrative with the reality of death.


How timely, since the cryps were right through this doorway. The archway warns: "Stop! Here is the empire of Death." Melodramatic? Yes. Accurate? Very.



We passed through and began taking in the graves. This is perhaps too dignified a term for what you see here--mass graves, piles of bones, stacked man-high and yards deep. These piles of bones are marked only with their place of origin. It's a genealogist's nightmare, all these human remains piled up like driftwood. Alas, poor Yorick, if he ended up here.

We were told that flash photography is not allowed, and my attempts to capture this sight from some angle that conveys its immensity are not entirely successful. The bones are artfully arranged--femurs and skulls were favored to create the walls, and we saw little else on our long walk.



The monotony must have gotten on the caretakers' nerves. To add a little cheer there are plaques everywhere chiselled with poems and homilies on the theme of mortality.

It's not really the place to practice one's command of written French, since the messages get pretty dreary. After a few like this, I felt like an ephemeral flower in the wind.

Our path turned and twisted below ground, and went on for a long time. It felt longer than it probably was. We came to view a span of stone wall with relief.

I had read somewhere that the bones of 6 million Parisians are interred here. After a while it struck me that 6 million people died in the Holocaust. This is a horrifying toll in human life, but it is a hard number to comprehend. Now I have a visual reference point. It took countless generations and all manners of death to produce this mass grave. War & genocide produced its equivalent in less than a decade.

Having made this observation, I was ready to be done. This is not the sort of place I will want to revisit, but I'm glad that I went.

Emerging from the catacombs and into a chamber with a soaring ceiling was a profound relief. It was a little less cheering when we realized that this is the site of a cave-in, and that the ceiling has been stabilized with epoxies and stone arches to hold up the part of Paris that's sitting on top.


We climbed an 18th-century staircase back up to the surface, and emerged into warmth and daylight as if reborn. We had no idea where we were (having failed to read the tourist brochure we were given on entry) but wandered off to find a Metro station. We stopped at a kid's clothing store and bought some gifts for friends back home--color! Life! What a relief.

The Paris Underground has also served as a site for covert activity; Nazi plotters and French Resistance fighters alike took cover there during WWII. Understandably, much of the Underground is now officially off limits and patrolled by security forces. This doesn't appear to stop a certain class of adventurer, but for that I will leave you to your own investigations.