Having made a study for laying out a burial ground upon a site selected by your Board, I desire in the present paper to review some of the leading considerations by which I have been influenced.

Under the authority of the State, you have assumed the duty of meeting the demand of a large community for a place of burial of the dead. The ground has been selected with care; you propose to have it laid out with care; you propose to make a large expenditure upon it; it will be consecrated with solemn ceremonies; you are forbidden to make sales within it a matter of pecuniary profit to yourselves, or those who provide for the expenditures to be made upon it; and in all your doings, you will act under special privileges of the law, and be held to peculiar responsibilities before the law.

Plainly, something more is contemplated in this than providing a place where spaces of ground are to be held ready for sale to those who may have bodies of the dead in their houses, which they wish to put away; something more, also, than a place where monuments may be erected by individuals or families, over the remains of their dead. A heathen and savage people might want all this. What more does the [474]character of a religious, civilized and republican people require a place of burial to be? The answer is: “A place of our common grief, our common hopes and our common faith; a place wherein we may see and feel our sympathy one with another.” Hence, no place of burial is satisfactory to us, which does not exhibit, besides evidences of respect paid by individuals and families to the memory of their own dead, evidences also of respect paid by the community of the living to the community of the dead.

Your central purpose, then, is to prepare a place in which those feelings, sentiments and aspirations which religion and civilization make common to all in presence of the dead, may be expressed and excited independently of the promptings of individual affliction and individual memories.

Your ground will be well or ill laid out, accordingly as this purpose is fittingly accomplished.

The success of those who have undertaken a similar duty for communities in our Atlantic States, where solemn groves and sheltered glades abound, and where turf forms naturally over all the soil which is not shaded by foliage, is mainly due to a judicious selection of ground at the outset.

Ground similarly suitable for the purpose does not exist in the vicinity of San Francisco. Here, there is no Cypress Hill, or Laurel Hill, or Greenwood, or Spring Grove, to be appropriated.

You must then look to an entirely different way of accomplishing the end in view, and to entirely different measures from those made use of in the East; or you must undertake, as a preliminary duty, the formation, by art, of a groundwork similar to that which Nature offers ready-made, to those who look for it at the East.

I believe that you will find it best not to undertake the latter course, and for the following reasons:

With graves and monuments studding the ground, and paths approaching them at frequent intervals, an absolutely natural landscape in a burial-ground is of course out of the question; but as far as it is possible to harmonize the general purpose with a naturally picturesque landscape, this has usually been attempted to be done in the Eastern Cemeteries. In laying them out, a picturesque, natural style is had in view; and if the roads and walks in them do not follow what are called natural lines, and the trees and shrubs and plants in them do not stand and group in a natural, picturesque manner, it is because of a necessity, which is regretted, or through want of skill to accomplish what is intended.

This style of gardening originated in England, and has been carried to much higher perfection in that country than anywhere else in the world. The reason of this is that certain conditions, favorable for the [475]peculiar beauty sought for, are found in the British Islands in a degree exceeding that of any other part of the world. These consist, in part, of a steadily moist atmosphere, and of soils to which a remarkably large variety of plants is indigenous, and which are, at the same time, extremely hospitable to exotics. In France, Germany, or the Northern Atlantic States, with the same ideals in view, the soil must be deepened and the roots of trees and grasses induced to extend themselves vertically, to avoid the effects of the dry atmosphere and the parching of the surface of the ground. Even these expedients are often insufficient, and arrangements have to be made for artificially watering the surface, before even an approach to the beauty of the English lawns, formed in this style, can be secured. It is safe to say, that a certain degree of beauty and convenience in New York, will cost the gardener, following this style, four times as much labor as it would in England, while, as before asserted, its highest perfection is absolutely out of the question there.

The difference between the circumstances with which you have to deal, and those of the Eastern States, is even greater than between those of the East and of Great Britain. Scarcely anywhere in the world, except in actual deserts, is the indigenous vegetation so limited in variety as in the country about San Francisco. It is subject to long-continued rains and to flowing torrents of surface water, at one season; it becomes dry and powdery, withering vegetation, at another. To what extent it will prove kind to exotic trees, cannot yet be ascertained, as the trial of none has passed an adolescent period.

Prima facie—what is peculiarly fit and becoming for your purpose in England, and what is a little less fit and becoming for the same purpose on the Atlantic coast, is likely to be quite unfit and unbecoming for the same purpose here.

By a very abundant use of artificial means of watering the ground, it might be possible for you to follow after the same ideal that has been had in view by those who laid out the best Eastern Cemeteries. But the capital, the skill, and the constant expense for labor which would be required to secure even an approach to the beauty, convenience and fitness of these grounds for their purpose, would be incalculably larger in your case, and the result, after all, would be satisfactory as a triumph of art over difficulties, rather than for its intrinsic beauty and fitness.

A part of your ground is a plain surface, mainly level. It is as far as possible, therefore, from being suggestive of picturesque treatment. You will observe, that in the portion of the plan which I offer you covering this part of the ground, each road is carried from one end to the other in a straight line, and bordered by rows of trees forming an avenue. This is, under the circumstances, the simplest and most natural course; whereas, on the hill-sides, to secure ease of ascent and descent, and to avoid rocks and sharp declivities, it is more natural and easy to proceed [476]by curved and sinuous courses. The Cemeteries to which we are accustomed in the East, are laid out entirely in curved lines, and in proposing to you to depart from their fashion in this respect, I have not disregarded, without reason, certain considerations which are commonly supposed to demand an adherence to it.

Curved lines are said to be natural lines, straight lines to be artificial, that is, unnatural; and it being common to regard what is called nature, as if it were more directly the offspring of the great Creator, and therefore purer and better, more full of truth and beauty than any work of man can be, it is argued that in a Cemetery the gardener’s art should only appear as if used in an humble waiting on Nature. But, even if we were willing to carry out this principle, choosing only natural forms for our granite and marble and bronze, which we are not, we should be but following out a fallacy; for the brain and hand, the taste and judgment, and skill and genius of man, are also agents of the Creator—are as much agents of the Creator as the wind and rain, as blight and drought and heat, as the instinct of the birds or the coral insect. If man’s purpose be pure and good, his handiwork will manifest the love and beauty and truth of the Almighty, at least as truly as that of any of His soulless agents; and however much the beauty of trees, the seeds of which have been sown by birds and winds and floods of waters may manifest the love of God, this so-called natural beauty can be no more pure and beautiful, no more fitting and becoming to our purpose, than if the trees had been planted by the hand of man, and with a single purpose to manifest Christian tenderness and care in the presence of the dead.

It is for this purpose that marble is to be quarried, and carved and set up; for this purpose trees are to be planted and nursed and watered and trained. Why desire to conceal the fact of art with them, any more than with the marble? Why not make the trees obviously and avowedly subordinate and auxiliary to this purpose—the solemn purpose of waiting on the dead?

But, it may be said, grounds in the picturesque, natural style—aside from all questions of fitness—are intrinsically more beautiful. It is true, they are so, under favorable circumstances. But, even where circumstances of climate and soil are favorable, the requirements of a place of burial constitute circumstances which are never favorable to the beauty aimed at in that style; for example, the charm of grounds laid out in the natural style, depends in a great degree upon the breadth of shadow which can be secured in connection with a graceful modulation of surface, and a free sweep of outlines. But a cemetery necessarily contains a large number of very small divisions of the surface, each of which must, of necessity, be within a short distance of a roadway. The ground must therefore be much cut up, the groups of trees must be small; and if individual taste or caprice is at all indulged in the family lots, it must be [477]at a sacrifice of all breadth of effect. No plat of ground, of a hundred square feet, can be made a landscape by itself; no number of plats of ground, each planted by itself, and with a view limited by its boundaries, as family burial lots usually are, and each containing its monument of stone, can be made to constitute a landscape, or can be given a high degree of the beauty which the picturesque style of gardening seeks to produce. Even, where a piece of ground of great natural beauty is in the first place selected, this necessity of a cemetery makes it certain that its purely landscape beauty will be marred, rather than advanced, as the general result of what shall be done.

There may seem to be an exception to this rule, in cases where a large extent of ground having been appropriated, a portion of it having the greatest landscape beauty, is carefully preserved from the operation of the rule—only that which is less attractive being given up to graves. It will be obvious, that in these cases, the real burial-ground is treated as the stables and outhouses of a mansion usually are by an architect—as if honor to the dead were an entirely secondary or subordinate purpose. The result is a park or pleasure-ground, with a burial-place attached to it. The care of the dead is not expressed in the beauty of the park, however great the skill in gardening, or the truthfulness to nature may be, which is there displayed.

If, then, you desire to manifest respect for the remains of the dead, you will be likely to accomplish your purpose better, if you start with that purpose directly in view, and not with the purpose of first making a beautiful landscape, and then finding a place where your dead may be buried without great injury to its beauty. Not only marble, but trees and earth and everything else should be treated in such a manner as (consistently with the nature of these materials) will best serve your purpose.

There are certain social circumstances which affect the question of what that manner should be, and which I propose next to consider.

In the community for which you are to provide, as in all young and rapidly enlarging communities, yet in a degree exceeding any other of equal numbers, there will be an extraordinary proportion of single men, of travelers and temporary sojourners. Under these circumstances, associations of various kinds are sure to be numerous. Many of these associations will desire portions of ground distinctly set apart for their purpose, in each of which the names of all members, or of all who are buried by the association possessing it, may be inscribed on a common monument. Your ground should be so laid out that such divisions and monuments may be made to contribute to the general effect desired, showing forethought, order, and decorous regard by all these associations, to the common purpose of honoring the memory of all the dead, as well as the particular purpose of each. Large provision should be made for [478]single graves and for small family lots. Some of the former should be situated favorably for the commemoration, by prominent monuments, of citizens or travelers in whom the public may have especial interest. While these are so placed that they may be readily distinguished, and the monuments over them be conspicuous, it is not desirable that they should be very greatly isolated, nor that the monuments should not seem to group and associate in architectural harmony with all that surrounds them. A lonely grave suggests a dreary life and the absence of cordial affection, even when it is marked with stately honors.

The social peculiarities of the community last referred to enforce another reflection, which is perhaps the most important of all, to be kept in mind in constructing your plan.

In old communities, society has gradually become organized in such a way that there are always a large number of persons who have had the opportunity of educating their tastes in constructive activity, and who have had sufficient relief from the demands of ordinary commerce to acquire contemplative habits of mind. Many public interests fall to the care of this class, and they come, sometimes unconsciously to themselves, and without distinct recognition by others, to be the leaders of public opinion in all fields of common interest wherein the esthetic exercise of the judgment is of great importance. By their example, and by quiet persuasion in ordinary social intercourse, they direct the action of many men of greater energy and practical ability, but of less mature taste than themselves. In your community, this class of men will not only be small, but society will for a long time be very loosely organized, and the functions they perform in older communities will therefore be exercised but imperfectly. The consequence will be seen in the neglect of public opinion to act in such a way as to cause the exercise of a refined common sense in those parts of what is common property and common duty, which are matters of taste. The members of the community will be too much engrossed with their individual occupations to give much attention to these-at least, to actively interfere against what they feel to be bad—and their occupations will have unfitted them to originate and carry through, and maintain in operation, the proper remedies.

It follows, that in the organization of a public enterprise like yours, the probability of this general neglect and of individual eccentricity, working unchecked by public opinion, should be regarded and provided against. Questions of taste should, as far as possible, be deliberately and thoroughly considered by express determination at the outset. What is right and best should be resolved upon, and fixed and tied up in bylaws and otherwise, so that it cannot be afterward set aside through carelessness, forgetfulness, or individual bad taste. And your plan should be made complete, so as to leave little to the future; and in such a form [479]that no considerable deviation from it, or interference with it, by individuals will be easily overlooked or tolerated.

The peculiarities of your climate enforce the same duty. Nowhere else is the danger of dilapidation from the alternation of Summer drought and Winter torrents, of stormy winds, and of vermin, so great; nowhere is dilapidation so inappropriate and offensive, and therefore so much to be guarded against, as in a cemetery.

The principle of mutual assurance, of cooperative labor, of joint stock association, is at the basis of your enterprise. Every man who buys a lot in your ground becomes a stockholder, a participant in the assurance you offer against dilapidation, neglect and irreverence. The greater and more obvious you make this assurance, the larger the common advantages you offer; the more perfectly and completely you provide what the public really needs to have, the more surely will you succeed, and the higher will what you have to offer be valued.

Having due regard to the peculiar social and climatic circumstances which have been thus considered; and looking ten years ahead, thinking what San Francisco is to be, what its wealth is to be, how great will then be the difficulties of rapidly providing other suitable grounds, it must clearly be your true policy to make much more generous, substantial and in every way well-guarded arrangements in yours, than are customary. At the same time, a character of simplicity and of unity, and an orderly co-relation of parts, is essential to the solemnity and dignity which it should be your first object to secure and preserve.

Keeping these ideas in view, I have given much study to the question, what materials are available to be used to produce the desired results? Those pertaining to earth, soil, gravel and masonry need at present no especial remark. Of trees, there is but one, which is really known to thrive when fully mature on your soil; and there is no sufficient experience to dispel the apprehension that most trees of the temperate zone after they have been brought to a certain height, may become stunted, dwarfish, decrepit, and thus expressive of the very idea which you wish most carefully to avoid. I am assured, that this will certainly be the case with all by the intelligent gardener now superintending the Lone Mountain Cemetery. I am aware, that others express a directly contrary opinion with great confidence, and that there are trees near your site which look hopefully; but it still remains true, that while there is evidence that many trees suffer peculiarly, there is none, and in the nature of the case can be none, as yet, that any tree, after it has attained a certain age and height, will not suffer.

It is extremely improbable, however, that among the thousands of trees known to botanists, there are none which are not peculiarly adapted to resist the conditions, whatever they are, which have prevented [480]trees from growing spontaneously upon your ground. By forming your plan so that the effect you desire would be produced by bodies of foliage simple in form and color, and so, at the same time, that every practicable advantage would be secured for the trees upon which you would depend for this purpose, you would be able to confine your choice of trees to a small number of species, and thus be obliged to take only those with regard to which you have the strongest assurance of success.

Many of the trees which are most cultivated in your private gardens are not such as we should select to meet the conditions above indicated. The Eucalypti, for instance, when full grown in their native country, are noted for their inability to resist high winds. The forests composed of them are almost impassable, in many parts, from the number of prostrate trunks and uplifted roots. They have no tap root, and their radicals keep close to the surface. After they are full grown, therefore, shrubs and other plants cannot be expected to flourish near them. On the other hand, the cypress, commonly called in California the Italian Cypress, sends its roots directly downward, and has no laterals. It grows in the same isothermal zone with Oakland, and on exposed headlands; it also grows on the most arid mountains bordering the Arabian desert. The mature tree is simple and dignified in form, dark in color, and no tree in Europe is known to have more persistent vitality. Being an evergreen, and seeming more than any other tree to point toward heaven, it has always been regarded as typical of immortality. For this and other reasons, it was considered by the Persians and Hebrews of old, as it is by the Turks and Oriental Christians of the present day, more appropriate than any other tree for planting about graves. Thucydides mentions that the ashes of the Greeks who died for their country were preserved in Cypress; and Horace speaks of the custom among the Romans of dressing the bodies of the dead with Cypress before placing them in the tomb. It is the gopher-wood of Scripture, of which, according to the tradition of the Hebrews, the Ark was made; and it constituted the “exalted grove” of Mount Sion, spoken of in Ecclesiastes. Here, then, is a tree which seems peculiarly fitted by its associations, as well as its natural character, for your purpose. Experience in your private grounds confirms, so far as it goes, what analogy of circumstances would lead us to expect.

The form of the cypress being peculiarly upright, we naturally seek next for the relief and contrast which would be found in trees which bear horizontal masses of foliage. The Cedar of Lebanon and the Stone Pine of Italy possess this character in an eminent degree. I remember no picture of Turner’s in which the trees of Southern Europe could be appropriately introduced, in which the upright Cypress is not associated with the Stone Pine. Both the Stone Pine and the Cedar of Lebanon are indigenous in very dry and exposed situations. Another tree, the success of which with you is perhaps still more probable, having when mature, as [481]I am informed, the same general characteristics, its head growing in nearly horizontal strigræ, as if to present the least possible surface to the direct action of the wind, is the Cypress of Lower California and Mexico, (Cupressus Macrocarpa). It is common in your gardens, and the finest specimen I have seen stands within a quarter of a mile of your ground.

Four species of trees have thus been named which are extremely likely to flourish on at least a portion of your ground. In addition, there is the Evergreen Oak, of which there are a few specimens now growing naturally upon it, and which is still more likely to flourish. It appears to me, that many oaks have sprung up upon your ground, but that only very rarely has one survived or retained any vigor after the first year or two. When favored by accidents with shelter and moisture, as where an acorn has germinated below the bank edge of the arroya, and the young plant has escaped the browsing of cattle for a few years, the growth has been rapid, and vigor and sturdiness have been acquired to enable the seedling to resist the influence of the ocean gales, and grow into a tree of ordinary size. Its head is flattened, it is true, but it is umbrageous and healthy. Such trees, however, are confined to the prairie soil. On the leeward side of the hills, there are many more oaks than elsewhere, but they all appear stunted and unhealthy. I attribute this to the thinness of the soil, and to the lack of moisture in it during several months of the Summer. If it can be ameliorated in these respects, I have no doubt that coppices of oak and other trees and shrubs can be carried to a considerable distance up even the windward side of the hills. It is only required that the wind should be slightly broken, not that a perfect lee should be formed, to make the cultivation practicable of a very large variety of shrubs and herbaceous plants—as large, perhaps, as can be cultivated anywhere else in the world. This appears probable from the considerable variety of stunted indigenous plants at present forming with the oaks before mentioned, the thickets on the leeward side of the hills, and the perfectly healthy and luxuriant appearance of a large assortment of exotic shrubs, which are growing in partially sheltered gardens and nurseries within a mile of the ground. It is also confirmed by experience, in situations upon the Atlantic Coast where there are no indigenous trees and shrubs, especially at Newport and in the celebrated garden of the late Mr. Tudor, at Nahant, where the wind is sifted through double gratings of narrow boards, and within which, to the height of these gratings, but no higher, all trees and shrubs which can endure the temperature, are found to thrive.

Masses of shrubs and of the Evergreen Oak, under these circumstances, will naturally take the shape on their upper surface best calculated to resist the wind. What this is, may be seen wherever you can look over the natural groves of Oakland. It is similar to that of the lofty heads of the Cedar of Lebanon, the Stone Pine and the Monterey Cypress. [482]over the natural groves of Oakland. It is similar to that of the lofty heads of the Cedar of Lebanon, the Stone Pine and the Monterey Cypress. Such coppices will therefore supply the most agreeable form of foliage to be associated below as that of those trees is above, with the spires of the Italian Cypress.

With a judicious combination of the three forms of foliage which I have thus indicated, you have all that is necessary for the composition of an impressive scene possessing a very distinctive kind of beauty. It would be not only effective and appropriate in form and color, but its association and poetic suggestion would be in the highest degree fitting to your purpose. The brooding forms of the coppices and the canopy of the cedars would unite in the expression of a sheltering care extended over the place of the dead, the heaven-pointing spires of the immortal cypress would prompt the consolations of faith.

I have spoken thus far of general effects only. If we suppose that your association takes upon itself the duty of planting trees and belts of coppice along the borders of the roads and at all the more salient points, the owners of lots may be expected to complete the work, not only because shrubs, vines and low trees will form the most fitting accompaniment of monuments, and are alone suitable for producing independent local effects; but because they can be cultivated with simple means and with cheapness and confidence of success. It will be only necessary that you make sure that they have the opportunity of obtaining suitable plants in sufficient quantity, at moderate prices.

The views I have thus expressed have governed me in the study for a plan, which is herewith presented.

Explanation of the Plan.

The Cemetery is approached by a straight road from Oakland, at the end of which is a gateway flanked by lodges, and an enclosing wall. Immediately within the gate the road divides into three, the one to the left being appropriated to Roman Catholic funerals, the one in front to the Hebrew, and the one to the right to all others. By curves in these roads and planting on their borders, no part of the ground will be seen by any person entering the gate, except the division, Roman Catholic, Hebrew, or otherwise, wished to be visited.

Turning to the right at a short distance from the gate, the road opens upon a shaded oval court 200 feet in length, in the center of which [483]

[484]Cemetery being provided with a similar court and chapel, there will be no occasion for the occurrence of any delay of processions at the common entrance, while ample standing room for carriages is obtained at points secluded from the graves, yet within the enclosure of the Cemetery. The chapel is designed to be used in inclement weather during the performance of the greater part of the funeral service, in accordance with the custom which now prevails in the best cemeteries of England and the East. The whole court about it is proposed to be made use of for the same purpose upon extraordinary occasions, in order to avoid the necessity for a prolonged attendance of large crowds at any point among the graves, and thus to reduce the liability of plants and monuments to accidental injuries. The oval court thus forms a place of waiting and assemblage, or shaded open air vestibule to the burial-ground.

The chapel stands opposite the mouth of a long bay in the hills, and from its front three avenues are proposed: one extending to the base of the hill on the right, one to the base of the hill on the left, while the center one leads to the head of the bay. From these three avenues, branches extend to all parts of the ground, except that immediately to the right and left of the chapel, which is appropriated to single graves, and accessible by other avenues entered from the sides and rear of the chapel.

Facing the chapel, at the distance of half a mile, upon the central avenue, is the general Receiving Tomb. Between these two points the central avenue is divided into four sections, each being separated from the other by a carrefour, in the center of which stands a public monument. From each carrefour roads diverge to the adjoining hills. From that nearest the chapel, minor avenues also radiate toward the mouth of the bay. Two of these latter intersect the avenues leading to the right and left, in front of the chapel. Intermediate points on these are connected by two other avenues parallel to the central avenue. The whole of the comparatively level portion of the ground lies within fifty feet of one of the avenues, and is divided into symmetrical sections by them, while the more uneven ground to the right and left is finally approached, and also divided into sections, by curved roads adapted to the topography. The avenues are everywhere bordered, and the level sections defined by rows of the Oriental Cypress, the trees standing uniformly ten feet apart. Midway between each alternate pair of these avenue trees is the entrance to a burial lot, and between each intermediate pair is the entrance to one or more lots in the rear. Except a few near the carre fours, all the lots adjoining the avenues or approached directly from them, are of large size and of a form symmetrical with, and architecturally related to, the rows of cypress. The number of this class of lots is nine hundred and eighty-five. They vary in size from one hundred and seventy square feet to two hundred and seven square feet. A monument placed on the central line [485]

of each of these lots, will stand also upon a line exactly dividing the space between two of the cypresses; and the shape of each lot is designed to admit of the planting of shrubbery on the rear and sides of a monument so placed, and of the graves in front of it, the masses of which shall also be symmetrical with the borders of the lot and with the cypress trees, between which the monument will be seen in front from the avenue, The boundaries of these lots are intended to be planted with hedges, by the Trustees, in order that uniformity, symmetry and neatness of arrangement may be still further secured; and also, that with the assistance of the rows of cypress, all the private ground may be screened from the wind, so that whatever is planted about the family graves may the more surely thrive, The hedge borders are also designed to give an appearance of greater seclusion and protection to the graves within the family lots than they would have if directly open to view from the carriage ways. Stone piers at the entrance to the family lots, being monumental in character, and calculated to harmonize with and support the monument within, are unobjectionable; nor need the clipping of the hedge-plants into architectural forms, at the same points, provided the form is not [486]fantastic, be objected to. The lots of a different form from those which have been described, near the ends of the avenues, are adapted to single graves, which it is desired to distinguish by a monument of some dignity. They may be used also as small family lots, being generally under one hundred square feet in size. Of this class of lots on the avenues, there are about five hundred.

On the more irregular surface of the Cemetery, where the roads follow curved lines, similar purposes to those which the hedges and rows of cypress are designed to meet on the level ground, are intended to be served by more picturesque belts of shrubs and coppice-wood, crossing the line of direction of the sea winds at frequent intervals. Each separate section of family lots will be surrounded and sheltered in by these belts, which will be broken only where it is necessary to give access to the lots within by walks from the carriage roads.

Numerous groups of graves will thus be formed on the slopes of the hills, to each of which a calm seclusion is secured. With a few unimportant exceptions, each lot will be symmetrical in form, will be entered at a point opposite its center, within, at most, one hundred feet of a carriage approach, and will be sheltered about with foliage. The plantations on the hill-sides, as well as the hedges and avenue trees in the valley, are intended to be planted, cultivated, watered and kept in order by the Trustees, without expense to the lot-holders, after the original price of the lot has been paid. The class of lots last described, entered from the curved roads, in the Protestant division of the Cemetery, will number about five thousand, varying in size from seventy to one hundred and twenty-five square feet.

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