Roughly 40 kilometres from Glasgow, Stirling's Old Town Cemetery was built in the mid-1800s to celebrate Scottish Presbyterianism and as a calculated departure from the standard British burial grounds. On what seemed the singular day of Scottish summer, I departed my fellow castle-hungry tourists for holier ground. I appreciated the tip, even if Wordworth loyalties were questionable: he ended up buried in "the loveliest spot" in a churchyard in Grasmere, England. "We know of no sweeter cemetery in all of our wanderings than that of Stirling," said William Wordsworth of Old Town Cemetery. The words of another Romantic led me to my next favourite "final" destination. In Wordworth's footsteps: Old Town Cemetery, Stirling, Scotland I no longer wondered why Oscar Wilde called it "the holiest place in Rome." It was morbid, but peaceful. On my otherwise hectic visit to Rome, it was my first moment of quiet reflection. More than 6,400 kilometres from my native Boston, I felt at home for a brief moment reading a quick poem among its gardens and purring felines that rivalled the flora and fauna of my first love, Mt. The Cat Sanctuary, where the cemetery's many feline guardians are fed and cared for, was just below. It was my initial clue from the painting. Fellow Romantic Percy Bysshe Shelley said of Keats's burial spot: "It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place." Shelley would consummate that lust at 29, joining Keats at Cimitero Acattolico after a mysterious boating accident in Italy.īeyond Keats's memorial looms the Pyramid of Cestius, built as a tomb for Gaius Cestius circa 12 BC and linked to the Aurelian Walls once fortifying the city in the third century AD. I found Keats's violet-covered grave just as promised. ![]() Last year, the cemetery celebrated its 300th anniversary as a dedicated burial ground to "Protestants, Muslims, Jews, Orthodox Christians, and other non-Christians" residing in the heart of Roman Catholicism. As an added bonus, an army of very-much-alive cats napped on the detailed, sculptural gravestones. Within its high walls, I found a silent landscape of sloping paths lined by Cypress and pomegranate trees, and bright flowers shaking off the recent rainfall. The clouds parted and the day's rain subsided just as I entered Cimitero Acattolico, the "Non-Catholic Cemetery for Foreigners" as it is welcomingly called. The mere description of its violets – his favourite flower – convinced an ailing Keats to be buried there, as he "already seemed to feel the flowers growing on him."Īnd so I ventured off the beaten tourist path of ancient ruins and elaborate Catholic churches to Rome's Testaccio neighbourhood to find Keats's – and my own – sweet escape. The description reads: Non-Catholic Cemetery, also known as the Protestant Cemetery. The painting, found in the room where Keats, 25, passed his final, laboured breath thanks to consumption, depicts a tranquil, pastoral setting with a seemingly out-of-place pyramid in the background. Nestled in the home of John Keats along Rome's Spanish Steps, the Keats-Shelley Memorial House and museum commemorates the lives of these two Romantics living abroad in Italy. Tracking Keats, Shelley to Rome's non-Catholic cemeteryĪ curious painting provided a clue to my beloved, picturesque cemetery. From the shadow of an ancient pyramid to the foot of a stately castle, here are two more of my favourite cemeteries to unwind in and explore. They provide brief escapes from the hectic pace of travelling among the living. ![]() The days often culminated in a climb to the top of Washington Tower for sweeping views of the Boston area.Īs I grew up and ventured out, I began a ritual – often with dead poets as my hosts – of seeking out beautiful, cemetery oases in cities around the world. If I was feeling stoic and in need of light, I'd make my way over to Christian Science founder Mary Baker Eddy's sun-soaked granite colonnade overlooking Halcyon Lake. I roamed its rolling landscape through pathways with names like Citron Lane and Lilac Path written on official yet quaint poles. Auburn was America's first garden cemetery. ![]() I had discovered the charms of the garden cemetery, the thrilling mix of spookiness and verdant life.Ĭreated in 1831 in Cambridge, Mass., in response to unhealthy, overcrowded graveyards of yore, Mt. A childhood mix of titillation and fear for ghosts and ghouls gradually grew into an genuine appreciation of Victorian aesthetics and the macabre. Somehow the juxtaposition of stark mortality with a lush landscape gave me a comfort with my own temporary state. It was there I experienced a rare calm, despite the gloomy headstones and Victorian mausoleums that were constant reminders of the cemetery's chief purpose. Auburn Cemetery’s Indian Ridge Path in Cambridge, Mass. Nineteenth-century American Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is entombed on Mt.
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