Tours of the catacombs started taking place in the early to mid 19th century.
When one things of Paris, the highlight might consider the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the shopping, Notre Dame Cathedral but some of the most intriguing history is below the streets of the city.
In the 17th century, Paris became the victim of its own success. Not only was the capital a place to live, it was also a place to die for – in fact the city had grown so large, the cemeteries were overflowing – sometimes literally, with bodies exposed in heavy rain.
It caused a stink, as one might imagine, and the traders around Les Innocents – the city’s largest cemetery – created an even bigger stink with complaints about business becoming absolutely untenable.
Unfortunately Louis XV’s edict to ban on new burials within the city didn’t solve the problem, In the end Louis’ grandson Louis XVI was forced to address the problem head on, when in 1780 a wall at Les Innocents collapsed, spilling its dead across a neighouring property.
Cemeteries began to be emptied in 1786, beginning with Les Innocents. It took the city 12 years to move all the bones—from bodies numbering between 6 and 7 million—into the catacombs. Some of the oldest date back as far as the Merovingian era, more than 1,200 years ago.
Congratulations! You’ve found the dead centre of town!
The final, final resting place of Paris’s mort had to be underground. Fortunately the city had a lot of underground to fill, thanks to mining for sandstone and gypsum (plaster of paris) that had been one of Paris’ industries since the 13th century.
If you’ve ever wondered why there are no super skyscrapers in Paris, you again have to look underground. The city is riddled remnants of those mines and underground quarries. They are comprehensively mapped if not always open to the public.
“They created the Inspection Generale des Carrieres [or quarries],” Daniel explained, an agency that exists to this day. “For over a hundred years, begun by Guillaumot, they lifted the quarry tunnel roofs, made right angles, consolidated walls.” He showed us how the inspectors matched streets above to “intersections” below, and how they numbered the walls: G for Guillaumot, 1779, say, for the year, and 4 for the number of walls created in sequence that year. Each inscription is etched in carbon black, and some are old French. On one inscription on Rue Vaugirard I saw the words “au couchant, ” indicating the western side of the street where the sun would “go to bed.”
While officials worked on consolidation and record keeping, not everyone who ventured below the streets was authorised to do so. Even today Cataphiles play cat-and-mouse with the authorities, but the tunnels are so extensive and spread out to much of the city, few are caught – even when the cataphiles have time to set up a cinema, bar and even a restaurant!
Centuries later, making use the cite de la mort was the French Resistance and also the invading German army which built a bunker in the 6th arrondissement.
During the French Revolution, churches were nationalised and deconsecrated, even the magnificent 1200 year old Notre Dame Cathedral was vandalised and turned into a temple for the cult de la raison (that incident featured in Moonstone Obsession). Not only were aristocrats guillotined, but also priests and nuns – including those who were cloistered with no interest in temporal politics – others were dragged out onto the street and hung or raped, then beaten to death (the savage side of the French Revolution will be a part of a series of posts soon).
Catacombs often brings to mind the ones in Rome where, back in ancient Rome, Christians escaped persecution.
While I couldn’t find any records of Christians holding masses under the city of Paris, it wouldn’t surprise me if they had so on that basis, I extrapolated some historical fact to create eglise sous terre – the church undergound – in Moonstone Conspiracy to draw attention to not only real historic events in Paris, but also the restive outer regions including the Vendee.
Here’s an excerpt from the upcoming release Moonstone Conspiracy.
Excerpt
Sightless sentries greet Daniel and Abigail in Revolutionary Paris
A single candle lay inside a small adit, just wide enough for them to walk two abreast. Daniel picked it up and handed it to Abigail. His meaning was clear—if he had to defend them, he would need both hands.
The white chalky walls reflected the light down a tunnel which turned black as it pushed further into the hill.
“Do not fear, you are among friends,” whispered a voice that echoed eerily down the passage ways.
“Who do we have the honor of calling friend?” asked Daniel.
“Come further inside to safety. The soldiers are superstitious; they won’t come any further than this entrance.”
Daniel placed his left hand on the small of Abigail’s back to gently urge her forward. She glanced up at him and he gave a nod of confirmation making sure in the candlelight that she caught of glimpse of the knife he carried.
They rounded the corner and the passage continued for about fifteen yards to where a small lamp stood, indicating another corner. They rounded it and then another. Dotted at intervals of about ten yards small lamps lit their way until they entered another passage. Abigail suppressed a scream. A skull in the wall eyed her sightlessly. She raised her candle higher and could see skulls, hundreds of them, twenty feet along and lining six feet up the walls.
Bones of other sorts too were neatly stacked in rows.
“There’s no need to fear. Our sentries will keep a look out,” the voice laughed, amused by his own jest.
