It's October, and that requires obligatory Halloween-inspired posts. And nothing is more obligatorily macabre than looking at the tombstones of those who have died.
Now through Halloween we'll post collections of tombstones to see where famous writers are hanging out today.
Today: Katherine Mansfield, Charles Chesnutt, Walt Whitman, Jane Austen
Like many in her day, Mansfield was diagnosed with tuberculosis, in her case at the age of 29. She spent the final five years of her life trying a myriad of ways of battling the disease, none of which held any positive effect.
At the age of 34, Mansfield died from a pulmonary hemorrhage after running up a flight of stairs, further proving why escalators are your friend.
Mansfield is buried at Cimetière d'Avon, Avon
Département de Seine-et-Marne
Île-de-France, France, where she was last at an institute for the treatment of her tuberculosis.
Tombstone Notes:
Bonus points for the wannabe garden party at the foot of the grave. Homey, chic decor can lighten up any cemetery plot!
There's a great rift among the scholarly set as to Charles Chesnutt's literary merit. He wrote an array of short stories, novels, and essays regarding race in America, about self-identity and social construct and belief structures--and while his message was one that many believe was powerful, others argue it was flimsy and lacked complexity.
All of this is a diversionary tactic so as to avoid saying I don't know how Charles Chesnutt died. No amount of research tells me what the cause of death was. He's dead though--died in Cleveland, OH, in 1932, and is interred at Lake View Cemetery. Because living in Cleveland kills everyone in time.
Tombstone Notes:
In the vein of that humble, modest, "I guess someone is buried under here," subtle sort of way John Steinbeck has as well.
Whitman's final years are as familiar as any elderly person's. In 1873, he suffered a paralytic stroke and moved into the home of his brother in Camden, NJ. Later, when the brother and sister-in-law moved for business reasons, Whitman bought a house across town in Camden, where he would spend the rest of his days.
In 1892, in failing health, Whitman spent $4,000 on a mausoleum for his body. By March 26, Whitman was dead. A who's-who of lung ailments killed him. An autopsy (performed in his home) declared Whitman died from "pleurisy of the left side (lung), consumption of the right lung, general miliary tuberculosis, and paranchymatous nephritis." His left lung had collapsed, his right lung was at 1/8th capacity, and an egg-sized abscess had eroded one of his ribs.
That trouble breathing you're feeling right now? Yeah, that's totally psychosomatic, I swear.
Whitman was buried in his $4,000 mausoleum in Harleigh Cemetery in Camden, NJ. Later, the bodies of his parents, two brothers, and their families would be moved in as well.
Tombstone Notes:
Only a miniature house could do for the cocky Whitman.
God only knows what killed Jane Austen.
A 1964 "retrospective diagnosis" (where doctors look at symptoms of long dead famous people and guess what killed them) says Austen died of Addison's Disease, an adrenal disease where the body doesn't produce enough steroids.
Other experts suggest Austen died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma, bovine tuberculosis, or Brill-Zensser disease. Austen, during her life, described her symptoms as rheumatism.
Her main symptom? Death. She was 41.
Austen's brother, Henry, hooked her up to a plot in the floor of Winchester Cathedral of Winshester, Hampshire, England. Nothing in the epitaph--written by her brother James--describes her skill as a writer.
Sigh.
Tombstone Notes:
A little bit wordy and over the top. Clearly James wasn't the writer in the family.
