Picturesque Sketches of London, Past and PresentMiller, Thomas
Philosophy
Picturesque Sketches of London, Past and Present
Miller, Thomas
London (England) -- Description and travel
Against these unhealthy graveyards sentence has been pronounced: they
are doomed to be closed. It is useless for selfish and mercenary men to
oppose the fiat which has gone forth, for the air of this mighty city
has too long been poisoned through men who live by the dead. Let us
create a good out of this evil; and after these unhealthy churchyards
have been closed long enough to destroy the injurious exhalations which
have of late numbered so many of the living with the dead, then let the
grounds be planted with trees and flowers, and they will become sweet
breathing-places, like our squares, and amid the brick walls call up
images of the far-away country. The old monuments need not be disturbed.
To see the drooping branches of a green tree falling over them, will add
to their beauty and solemnity; and in the centre of our cities we can
wander among groves rendered sacred by the remains of our
forefathers,--can in the dim twilight-shadows which the flickering
leaves will ever make, hold communion with the spirit of John Bunyan,
while we peruse his immortal work in the burying-ground of
Bunhill-fields; for by such association would these spots become
hallowed. Nor would the records of the dead, who sleep without the walls
of the church, be held less sacred, if their names were engraven on
marble tablets, and placed within the consecrated buildings around which
their dust would repose, beneath beds of blowing flowers and
close-leaved evergreens.
The old grey weather-beaten tombs of the founders of charities would
look more venerable overtopped by the tall elm, the sable yew, or the
weeping willow, that seems ever to droop sadly above the dead. No busy
builder should ever be permitted to rear a wall within these sacred
enclosures, or disturb the robin that would pipe his sweet anthem in
autumn, or drive away the belted bee, that would come over the high
houses from some distant meadow, to make a plaintive murmur in the heart
of this vast city as he flew in and out among the flowers that waved
above these old households of the dead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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