The Genius of Scotland; or, Sketches of Scottish Scenery, Literature and ReligionTurnbull, Robert
Religion
The Genius of Scotland; or, Sketches of Scottish Scenery, Literature and Religion
Turnbull, Robert
Scotland -- Description and travel
East of the Cathedral, a few steps, lies the Necropolis, on the brow of
a hill which overlooks the city and the surrounding regions. We pass
over the "Bridge of Sighs," so named from its leading to the Cemetery,
and consisting of a handsome arch, spanning the "Molendinar Burn," a
brawling rivulet, whose waters, collected into a small basin, dash over
an artificial cascade into the ravine below. The Necropolis covers the
rocky eminence formerly crowned with dark firs, and supposed, in ancient
times to have been a retreat of the Druids, who here performed their
fearful rites. But how sweet and peaceful now, ornamented with fine
trees and shrubbery, shady walks, and beautiful monuments, a serene
retreat for the peaceful dead. In point of situation and appearance, the
Necropolis is superior to "Pere la Chaise," though certainly inferior to
"Greenwood" and "Mount Auburn," in our opinion the most attractive
burying-places in the world. Still, each of these has a beauty of its
own, well fitted to soften and subdue those feelings of grief and
horror naturally excited by death and the grave. Such sweet and
attractive places of burial are in harmony with the genius of the
Gospel. The ancient Greeks, from their very horror of death and their
ignorance of futurity, endeavored to invest the tomb with festal
associations. Why, then, should not we, upon whom the light of
immortality has descended, lay those we love in scenes of quiet beauty,
where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest?" Does
not Holy Writ declare, "_Blessed_ are the dead that die in the Lord?" It
is therefore meet to place their bodies only in scenes which remind us
of rest, of hope, and of Heaven.
"The Dead cannot grieve,
Not a sob nor a sigh meets mine ear,
Which compassion itself could relieve.
Ah, sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, or fear;
Peace! peace is the watchword, the only one here."
Let affection, then, bury her dead and build her tombs amid the trees
and the flowers, which preach to us of the resurrection-morn and the
paradise of God.
"The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise!
The second to Faith which insures it fulfilled;
And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,
Who bequeathed us them both when he rose from the skies!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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