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Comments (13) Posted 04.15.10 | PERMALINK | PRINT

Jessica Helfand

Every Poem an Epitaph: The Protestant Cemetery in Rome


The Cimitero Acattolico in Rome

Predating Pere Lachaise and other great classic cemeteries, the Cimitero Acattolico in Rome is believed to have the largest concentration of well-known graves in the world, which sounds suspiciously like 
a typical Italian claim: hyperbolic and endearing but in all likelihood,
 debatable. Nevertheless, it sits across from the Pyramid of Cestius (dated
between 18 and 12 B.C.) and is divided into an old and a newer area, its principal
 draw being the graves of Percy Bysshe Shelley and John Keats, the latter having come to Rome in
 the winter of 1820 hoping to recover from tuberculosis, where he succumbed to the 
disease only months later. Keats is buried next to his good friend Joseph Severn, a painter, who was apparently so poor at the time of his own death that
 a posse of friends paid for his internment. (An impressive crowd that included
 Gabriele Rossetti, all of whom are duly credited on the back of his tombstone.)
 Wedged between these lies a marker that could only belong to a child, and which turns 
out to be Severn’s son, who died accidentally in his crib as an infant.






Such woeful narratives are common in cemeteries,
 and the Acattolico is no exception. If Rome has rightfully earned its name as the 
eternal city, it is perhaps at least in part due to the dramatic stories on the 
sides of stone plinths such as these — tales 
expressing the infinity of grief, the interminability of mourning, a gloom so 
profound, it can only be reflected in a series of grey tablets, protruding from the 
earth with a kind of deep, solemn grace. That we visited on an overcast morning 
in early spring only added to the mystery: fragrant wisteria in bloom, trees
 just beginning to leaf out, a poignant backdrop to the inert stones and the 
stories they held. And here, you can’t help but be affected by the countless biographical 
fragments, stories that remind us of our own mortality
 (how could they not?), just as they gesture poetically to a time, long ago, when
 war and disease claimed young mothers and soldiers, grieving parents, even children 
in their cribs.






The famous are buried here, as well as the 
not-so-famous: what they mostly share in common is the fact that they were, for
 the most part, foreign-born. None were Catholic — there were Jews, Protestants 
and others — and no crosses were allowed on tombstones before about 1870. The 
graves themselves range from early neoclassical to full-tilt baroque, with no
 shortage of simple, minimalist, even neo-facist gravestones, barely more than
 geometric motifs in this otherwise densely plotted park. Some include typos — 
as in the case of the grave shared by two of the deceased children of the
 American sculptor William Story — which, I confess, seemed perfectly logical to 
me: after the loss of two children, how could you possibly remember 
how to spell February? 






Tombstone of Joseph Story

When it came time to bury his beloved wife, Story
 spelled everything correctly, and placed a weeping angel on her grave. Breathtaking, 
it can be seen from nearly every corner of the otherwise monochromatic site — a
 smoothly polished white winged creature, bent over the grave in eternal grief.






Tombstone of Joseph Story's wife

The social history here is evident in everything
 from the inscriptions to the names of the deceased — Elspeth Passarge, Horace
 Belshaw, and the inimitable (and scarcely pronouncable) Barronness Elsa
 Pfafferott. The dates, too, are telling, particularly when the life represented
 is, like Charles Dark (who “died for love”) such an abbreviated one.

Tomb of Elsbeth Passarage

Tombstone of Horace Belshaw

Tombstone of Elsa Pfafferott

“It might make one in love with death, to think 
that one should be buried in so sweet a place," wrote Percy Shelley, shortly before his own death. His first son, William, who died tragically at 
the age of three, probably of cholera, is buried here, as are the poet’s ashes.






Tombstone of William Shelley

Death, of course, eventually awaits us all. And who 
among us would not want to be remembered for being “noble in dignity” as the 
sculptor John Gibson; or for her “cultivated taste and cheerful Christian
 spirit,” as Elizabeth Susan Percy; or as the young Charles Duncombe, “a most 
dutiful and affectionate son and a rare example of piety purity of morals and 
goodness of heart.”

Tombstone of John Gibson

Tombstone of Elizabeth Percy

Tombstone of Charles Duncombe

One does not have to be a poet to write 
heartbreaking words on a piece of eternal stone. Or perhaps the opposite is 
true, that all such memorials are lyrical remembrances — that every poem, as T.S. 
Eliot once observed, is an epitaph.

Tombstone of Derrick Plant
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Comments (13)   |   JUMP TO MOST RECENT >>

I was so moved by the photographs of the Story graves (I love the Angel of Grief, which was designed by William Story) and your beautiful description of them that I looked up the family to make sure that at least ONE child survived. I found this on the Wiliam.W. Story Wikipedia page: "His children also pursued artistic careers: Thomas Waldo Story (1855–1915) became a sculptor, Julian Russell Story (1857–1919) was a successful portrait painter, and Edith Marion (1844–1907), the marchesa Peruzzi de' Medici, became a writer." Three artists, and one a marchesa; I feel a bit relieved.
Anne Peck
04.15.10 at 10:15

Jessica,
Just beautiful... The grey, cloudy morning must have made everything even more sad and beautiful. Another fine piece of writing.
A prest!
Eric
PS: Happy belated birthday!
Eric Baker
04.16.10 at 09:37

Jessica, wonderful article! My mother works at Spring Grove Cemetery & Arboretum in Cincinnati, OH (www.springgrove.org). Your photos remind me of it in a lot of ways. If you love cemetaries, I highly recommend visiting this one. It's worth the trip for the Dexter Mosoleum alone.

It's always amazing to me that a cemetary can hold so much beauty, personality, and even "life."
Carrie
04.16.10 at 01:40

(Surely Maud, tucked on the bottom of Joseph's stone, who died in "Februry" 1889, is William W. Story's _grand_daughter, the child of [Thomas] Waldo, per Anne Peck's note above? The Storys could not have known when they buried Joseph in 1853 that they were to have two more sons.)

Thanks for the pictures and reflections. I appreciated seeing the newer stones as well as the older & more famous.
nbmandel
04.18.10 at 08:12

More on this astonishing cemetery here :
http://www.aarome.org?rt=blog&rid=183
Jessica Helfand
04.21.10 at 06:40

There is a very interesting history of foreigners in Rome. But my favorite epitaph will always be Keats, who asked for:
"Here lies one whose name was writ in water." I may have paraphrased that from so long ago. It always made me sad for someone who was so young to die. It happens even today. I really love people who take the time and reserve the money to have what they believe carved into the stone. It's personal from the deceased and I appreciate it. This was a lovely story.
Tess Elliott
04.23.10 at 06:11

Jessica,
Thanks for being part of our group and for taking such good pictures! I see you went back and made some discoveries of your own. You can appreciate why, even with all that this wonderful city has to offer, this is still my favorite place in Rome.
Christina
Christina Huemer
04.23.10 at 09:36

WW Story and Emelyn are my great grandparents
Emelyn KIrkland
10.05.10 at 12:00

hello Emelyn, can I have your e-mail address?
Lorenzo Palmieri
12.28.10 at 08:54

William Story age 6 and baby Maud Story were not both the children of WW and Emelyn Eldredge Story. Little "Jojo" as they called him was their son but infant Maud was their granddaughter, daughter as the gravestone says of Maud and Thomas Wlado Story.
Anne Peck had THomas Waldo Story's and Julian Russell Story's birthdates wrong as do many museums. Waldo was born in 1854 and Julian in 1856. Julian is ofter referred to as Anglo-American. There was nothing Anglo about him except his education at Eton and Oxford. The Storys were American to the core except for Edith who married an Italian and has a lone survivor aged a lively 97 as of today 12/31/2010. Edith died in 1915 not 1907.
Emelyn Kirkland
12.31.10 at 04:06

Lorenzo Palmieri,
Yes, you may. It's Moppetkir@aol.com.
Emelyn
Emelyn Kirkland
01.01.11 at 11:44

I was just looking for some more information’s about the Protestant Cemetery in Rome and found this entry. I was visiting Rome last week and also went to the Cemetery. For me it was very impressive to see all the poets and the great sculptures. There many famous names that I recognized such a Charles Dark and John Gibson which I knew from the literature. I have already bought my plane for the next Rome trip in 2 months and already look forward to go to the Cemetery again. For me it was quite an inspiration to be there and see how well a Cemetery can be designed.
Maria Junker
04.13.11 at 06:11

This is one of the most touching articles I’ve seen in a long time and it really brought tears in my eyes! Just imagine having something that reminds us of some of the most respected and well known people of that time being “alive” even today through their tombs which have been erected there by their near and dear ones to be seen and remembered to this day! Was happy to see one of the descendants of the Story family making some clarifications about her family’s details!!
Brien
04.17.11 at 09:15



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Jessica Helfand, a founding editor of Design Observer, is an award-winning graphic designer and writer and a former contributing editor and columnist for Print, Communications Arts and Eye magazines. A member of the Alliance Graphique Internationale and a recent laureate of the Art Director's Hall of Fame, Helfand received her B.A. and her M.F.A. from Yale University where she has taught since 1994.
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Scrapbooks: An American History
Yale University Press, 2008

Reinventing the Wheel
Winterhouse Editions, 2002

Screen: Essays on Graphic Design, New Media, and Visual Culture
Winterhouse Editions, 2001

Looking Closer 3
Allworth Press, 1999

Paul Rand: American Modernist
winterhouse Editions, 1998

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