I entered.
Immediately inside the gate, a little to the right, are those monster
graves called by the people "the pits," into which the dead were thrown
coffinless in hundreds, without mourning or ceremony--hurried away by
stealth, frequently at the dead of night, to elude observation, and to
enable the survivors to attend the public works next day, and thus
prolong for awhile their unequal contest with all-conquering Famine. A
difficulty arose in my mind with regard to the manner of interment in
those pits. Great numbers, I knew, were interred in each of them; for
which reason they must have been kept open a considerable time. Yet,
surely, I reflected, something resembling interment must have taken
place on the arrival of each corpse, especially as it was coffinless.
The contrivance, as I afterwards learned, was simple enough. A little
sawdust was sprinkled over each corpse, on being laid in the pit, which
was thus kept open until it had received its full complement of tenants.
To trace one's steps, slowly and respectfully, among the graves of those
who have reached the goal of life in the ordinary course, fills one with
holy warnings; to stand beside the monument raised on the battle-field
to the brave men who fell there, calls up heroic echoes in the heart,
but here there is no room for sentiment; here, in humiliation and
sorrow, not unmixed with indignation, one is driven to exclaim:--
O God! that bread should be so dear,
And human flesh so cheap.
Pages:
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470