All these sacrilegious outrages on the dead could be obviated by incineration. The avaricious would not be tempted by a small quantity of ashes in a plain urn. There would be no valuable clothing and no costly jewelry, ordinarily inhumed with some bodies, to excite rapacity.
Furthermore, cremation promises the greatest possible security from vandalism. When the urn containing the remains, i.e., ashes, of our friends or relatives is placed in a niche in the columbarium, it can be easily guarded. One watchman, in communication (by electrical alarm) with the police department of the city, will suffice to protect the urn-hall of a columbarium. The same cannot be said of a cemetery; it would take at least a company of watchmen to properly guard the grounds of a medium-sized graveyard.
Some day we will have Westminster Abbeys on a small scale, where, amid grand monuments and costly urns, the simple tablet of wood shall have its place, its inscription remaining legible, not being blotted out by the elements, as it is to-day. Each church could have its own urn-hall, and the burial ceremonies could be conducted according to the belief of the deceased.
The greatest foe incineration has to contend with is the widespread antipathy against it, entertained and nursed by people who are governed more by sentiment than by reason. Which is the most poetical mode of disposal of the dead, cremation or burial? Think! think!! think!!! and you cannot fail to find out.
Mr. W. Robinson, F.L.S., says:—
“The simplest urn ever made for the ashes of a Roman soldier is far more beautiful than the costly funeral trappings used in the most imposing burial pageant of modern times. Of urns of a more ambitious kind, the variety and beauty are often remarkable, as may be seen in our national and various private collections. It would be a gain to art if some of the money spent on coffins, which rot unseen in the earth, were devoted to such urns, which do not decay, and which might be placed in the light of day, and perhaps teach a lesson in art as well as bear a record.”
And the Medical Herald declares:—
“An urn of granite, alabaster, malachite, or one of the precious metals, with the life-sized statue of great men placed in the halls of state, would much more befittingly express the state’s regard, and preserve and perpetuate the grateful tribute a Christian people would pay their memories, than any number of columns and shafts reared in cemeteries, which must in time be demolished.”
Which is the more æsthetic, a small heap of pure, pearl-white ashes, or a grim skeleton? Certainly those who have seen a decomposing body, or human remains in the state of adipocere, would not call them æsthetic. Contrast with the ghastly skeleton, now commonly employed as an illustration of death, the representation of death by the ancients,—the boy with the inverted torch. Which is the more refined?
The strong tombs, of such a grandeur and beauty—proof against the gnawing teeth of time—mortuary monuments,—as we shall not be able to leave to our offspring, testify to the pious veneration for the dead of the ancients. I need but remind you of the grand pyramids, the extensive necropolis at Thebes, the mausoleums and columbaria of the Via Appia in Rome, to cause you to perceive the truth of my statement.