The burial-vaults of the Capuchin brotherhood are not vaults at all in the sense of subterranean chambers. They are four in number, of fair size, open on one side to the corridor which is lighted by grated windows. The inner walls are banks and rows of dried skeletons, whole and dismembered.
“Does it take long to upholster an apartment in this style?” asked Mark Twain, contemplating the decorations of the crypt.
The wicked witticism sounded in our ears in his exquisite drawl, as, amazed to discover how slightly shocked we were, we raised curious eyes to the geometrical figures traced in raised lines upon the ceiling. These are composed of the small bones of the human form, skillfully assorted and matched. Pillars and niches are built of thigh, leg and arm bones. Each niche has its skeleton, stayed in an upright posture by a cord knotted about his waist, securing him to a hook behind. All wear the costume of the order;—a butternut-colored gown, the cowl framing the skull. Some tiny skeletons lie upon compact beds of bones close to the ceiling.
“Children!” we said, in French, to the guide. “How is that?”
“Children of the Barberini,” was the answer. “Therefore, entitled to a place here. Our founder was a Barberini.”
“And were they buried for a while, and then disturbed—dug up?”
“Why not?”
He was a stalwart fellow, with bare, horny feet; a rusty beard falling below his breast; and a surly face, that did not relax at these questions, nor at our comments, in our own tongue, upon what we saw.
The floor of the chambers is light, mellow soil, like that of lately weeded and raked flower-beds. To carry out the conceit, rows of sticks, labeled, were stuck along one side, that might mark seed-rows. So much of the original soil as remains there was brought from Jerusalem. In each grave a deceased monk slumbers twenty-five years, then makes room for the next comer, and is, himself, promoted, intact or piece-meal, as architectural needs demand—
“To a place in the dress, or the family circle,” supplied Prima, with praiseworthy gravity.