Apryl Zarfos Anderson
The renowned Impressionist artist, Paul Cézanne, died after 3 days of influenza in his native Aix-en-Provence, and was buried in the local cemetery.
In honor of 104 years of his passing, I decided that it was time to take a stroll through the gardens. This would certainly clear my confusion as to whether he died on the 22nd or 23rd of October. Why would so many of his biographies disagree on this date?
How interesting: the engraving on the tomb says 22 octobre 1906, and the plaque to help visitors locate the tomb says 23 octobre 1906. Fine. I've done a bit of the family genealogy. I know how facts are affected by the human element.
Let's explore.
Le Cimetière Saint-Pierre was created in 1824 when the city acquired land including two already existent cemeteries: a Jewish cemetery and a Protestant. Prior to the reforms brought about by the Napoleonic empire, the politics of religion kept the people separate in life and death.
Currently, St Peter Cemetery covers 7 hectare, and is named after the quarter in which it's situated.
The attendant of the cemetery was extremely helpful and welcoming. One wall of the office is covered in an impressive old map, with each numbered plot. He explained in great detail the route to Monsieur Cézanne's grave. I was reminded to go down allée 6, and turn toward Cézanne's favorite mountain. Then he graciously handed me a photocopied map pointing out the more well-known names of Aix.
Not far from Cézanne is the tomb of the painter, Constantin. (photo at left)
Other famous names include François Zola (engineer and father of writer Emile Zola), Sextius de Miollis (1759-1828, General who fought in the American War of Independence under Rochambeau), composer Darius Milhaud, Academie Française historian François Auguste Mignet, Auguste Forbin, Richelme, and many others whose names grace the streets of Aix.
The brochure/map explains that, in 1837, the bodies and funerary monuments were transferred from the cemeteries throughout the old town to this place.
I found the marker on a high spot above the Carré Israëlite (Jewish cemetery).
It reads: April 1832; DEPOSITORY the bones of old cemeteries.
Immediately to the left of that is a very curious stone that is engraved in English:
At Aix on the 6th of november --17
Just beyond that is the original Jewish cemetery. Darius Milhaud's tomb is located here.
Strolling through the rest of the walkways, you will find well-maintained garden plots next to crumbling stones.
Tombs in european cemeteries are rented, not purchased. The 'final resting place' isn't very much different from the temporal one, so if you don't pay the rent, you will be evicted. The bones will be exhumed to a common grave, and that space becomes available for the next tenant.
Moving right along...
It's lovely, and touching, and eternally connecting to read these Provençal surnames, and a family's words of remembrance. The photos on porcelain, and angelic statues are so dated, and so timeless. Where else but a necropolis would one go to find these art forms?
Likewise, memorial statues to the town's war dead. It's astonishing to note the long list of young men who never returned from the trenches, and the battlefields that so quickly evaporate from the collective memory.
I wonder over their stories, and about the hands that continue to place wreaths and bouquets...
Comments: 1
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#1
'Spirits Lament'
http://yamabuki9.blogspot.com/2010/10/spirits-lament.html
Dying is no fun
Though celebrating death
Transforms the suffering
Gives it meaning
Where before
There was only pain
But know this,
It's only change
Another turn in the spiral
Of Life and Death
You speak of me
As if I were not here anymore
Calling me a bum
Calling me a poet
Or an alcoholic
As Jack Sparrow would say
"Sticks and Stones, love"
But I'm still here with you
Or should I say
We are all here with you
We spirits of the dead
Thou you, in your fear
May call us ghosts
As if we were monsters
That you could exorcise
We called for spirits in life
Never guessing
That, ‘like calls like’
Have you any idea
How many spirits
Surround you now
We are here with you
Even if you don’t see us
Call us dead if you like
Though, you the 'living'
Seem more like dreams to us
The Chinese know better
They feed us and house us
Send us food and money
And most importantly
They speak to us
Letting us know
That they still care
yamabuki 
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