/ / Cemetery Paris: photo description (Cimetiere des Batignolles)

Cemetery Paris: photo description (Cimetiere des Batignolles)

Cemetery of Paris - the fourth largest in Paris, but not so popular among tourists, Montmartre or Montparnasse. It was opened in 1833 for the new town of Batignolles-Monceau and then took a few acres. Now it is more than 10 hectares there are 15 thousand graves. Celebrities of the first magnitude are buried here not so much the numbering of the graves is not convenient, the cemetery is on the outskirts - close to the ring road Péripherique. 900 trees (chestnut trees, ash trees, maples, plane-trees) are not saved: the highway runs right over the graves, the monuments here in dust and dirt.

However, for Russian tourists cemetery of Paris can be very interesting - here Russian emigrants buried their deceased to Saint-geneviève-des-Bois.

The old slabs are engraved the names: Demidov, Naryshkin-Witte, Trubetskoy, Nelidova, Obolensky, Volkonsky, Bakhmetieva. Family grave of diplomat George Bakhmetyev is just under the ring road, the grate is always covered with dust... Entrepreneur Pavel Ryabushinsky, composers, Sergei Lyapunov and Fyodor Akimenko, Archimandrite Vladimir (Goethe), writer and social activist Barbara, Ixcol, the diplomat Mikhail Girs, the artists Alexander Benois and Leon Bakst were also buried here. Here, in the cemetery of Paris was the great Russian singer Fyodor Chaliapin, but in 1984 his remains were transferred to Moscow, at the Novodevichy cemetery. But on the grave of one of the ideologues of Russian liberalism and the founder of the cadet party of Milyukov Paul still lay flowers.

Among the French celebrities buried here, lots of names hardly something will tell Russian tourists. But the name of Paul Verlaine is known to all. Poet, drunkard, tramp lived in a suburb of Paris. Die hard, in poverty and suffering, almost in madness, but managed to receive communion. He was buried in the family crypt, as predicted by Verlaine in his poem "Paris":

Overweight lump of tufa; the names of four:
Mother, father and I, and later a son, in a row.
At the cemetery we're resting in the world;
Marble and grass in the cramped fences.

Tuff, the five faces in it; a rude tomb
The height in meters, glabrous; around
Stretched chain - clear boundary.
While the suburb is asleep; and though the faint sound.

From here we angel trumpet
Call in your hours to finally
We live, to fully live the life of the world,
Oh, beloved, son, mother, father!

(Translation Of Georgy Shengeli)