Felix Faure (1841-1899), the sixth president of the French Republic who, in true Belle Epoque spirit, dies in the arms of his mistress -- endearing him to the French populace in a way that his policies never did. His bronze figure is raised slightly and turning as if, waking, he can't figure out where his paramour has gone.There is something that I simply love about wandering through graveyards, reading the headstones and looking at the monuments. I picked up this love from my mother who I remember wandering graveyards with on a vacation trip to New England. Later, when I visited Europe, New Orleans, and Galveston, all of which have a generous sprinkling of fascinating graveyard monuments, I wandered whenever I could through the memorials. Some tell their own sad story of disaster when many family members are buried within days of each other or similar tragedy when a newborn and mother are laid side by side in the same week. However, part of the fascination is wondering about the lives of those who went before us.Permanent Parisians
Perhaps my lifelong attraction to cemeteries is the reason I dearly love to occasionally reread this series of books. They are illustrated guides to some of the interesting cemeteries of the London, Paris, New York, California, and Italy. Written with charm and verve, the authors guide readers and potential sightseers amongst interesting, unusual, and famous grave memorials of the famous and anonymous. The photographs are in black and white but still retain their appeal.
Before settling down to his arduous labors Darwin set about finalizing his one decisive prescription: "Marry, marry, marry. Q.E.D." His choice was Emma Wedgewood; not surprising since the Darwins and Wedgwoods seemed always to be marrying one another. It was a case where "the perfect nurse had married the perfect patient," for Darwin was frequently ill. With age his complaints grew worse and he spent more time in illness and convalescence. It has never been clear whether Darwin's illness was more or less hypochondriasis. Certainly he loved the attention of his doting Emma as did their many children who were also not loath to be sick.Much of the undeniable entertainment of these books is from the prose stylings of the authors who somehow maintain a careful balance between respect for the dead and an irreverent enjoyment of poking holes in any pretensions of those who history has put on a pedestal. In the meanwhile, the reader is absorbing quite a bit of history in a most enjoyable fashion. We discover little tidbits about famous personalities that never would have gotten across otherwise. Especially entertaining is the sometimes incongruous juxtaposition of final resting places for those who were rivals when alive which, of course, the authors lose no time in pointing out. Occasionally, not much is known about the person buried but the memorial is so memorable that it is shown and described in detail. Highly recommended.
Darwin's children grew up true Darwinians. They could hardly not, for the house smelled for eight years of the barnacles Charles was busy noting and dissecting, causing one of the young children to inquire about a neighbor, "Then where does he do his barnacles?" ...Permanent Londoners
Behind the Newcastles, in the small Chapel of St. Michael, is hidden one of the more extraordinary monuments of the Abbey. Executed by Louis Francois Roubillac, it is a memorial to Lady Elizabeth Nightingale (1704-1731) who died after a miscarriage. Lady Nightingale languishes while her horrified husband, Joseph Gascoigne Nightingale, supports her and tries to stave off Death's poisoned dart with his upraised hand. Death, attacking from beneath them, is a dramatic enshrouded skeleton. It is said, with perhaps more hope than truth, that a burglar who once broke into Westminster Abbey saw the scene and fled, terrified.Permanent Londoners
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