of
the police; and the "wall of the Federals," against which the
Communists were stood up to be shot, is almost covered with memorial
wreaths. "How many years longer," says M. Havard, "will there still
resound these instigations to hatred and these appeals to vengeance?"

The only private cemetery in Paris is that of Picpus, the entrance to
which is in the street of the same name. When the guillotine was
transported from the Place de la Revolution to the former barriere de
Trone, it became necessary to find in the quarter a place of burial for
the victims, and the Commune of Paris selected, on the 26th Prairial,
year II, a "piece of ground that had belonged to the so-called canons of
Picpus." Here these victims of "the law" were interred, to the number of
thirteen hundred and six, all executed between the 14th of June and the
27th of July, 1794; and this _cimetiere des guillotines_ has been
preserved as the property of the relatives and friends. It includes the
tombs of a number of the most ancient and illustrious families of
France, that of General Lafayette, of General de Beauharnais, of the
poet Andre Chenier, of Talleyrand, Montalembert, etc. It was acquired,
under the First Empire, by the Prince de Salm-Kirbourg, one of whose
ancestors had been buried in the Revolutionary fosse commune; and is
open to visitors on payment of a fee of fifty centimes. The victims of
the guillotine of the Place de la Concorde were buried in two
provisional cemeteries which have disappeared,--one which had served as
a kitchen-garden for the Benedictines in the Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque,
and the other near the Folie-Chartres, in the neighborhood of the
present Parc Monceau and the Boulevard de Courcelles.

That lugubrious institution, the Morgue, dates from 1714, at least; it
was then a low room in the basement of the Chatelet, near the vestibule
of the principal stairway, and in the court adjoining was a well, the
water of which served to wash the corpses. It was under the care of the
_filles hospitalieres de Sainte-Catherine_, and was, as may be supposed,
a noxious cell in which the bodies, thrown one upon the other, waited to
be inspected by the light of lanterns by those searching for missing
relatives or friends. In March, 1734, it was thronged with visitors
attracted by the unusual presence of some fifteen or sixteen infantile
corpses, none of them more than three years of age; it appeared that a
celebrated anatomist, Joseph Hunau