Star Struck in Père Lachaise: Paris’ Most Famous Cemetery

Story and photos by Linda Donahue

For my first visit, I came to see all of the famous people. But ever since, I visit Cimetière du Père-Lachaise simply because it’s one of my favorite places in Paris.

Paris’ largest cemetery (at nearly 119 acres) is also the most famous cemetery in the world. Jim Morrison is buried here. So is Édith Piaf, Honoré de Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt, Maria Callas, Frédéric Chopin, Marcel Proust, Oscar Wilde, and Gertrude Stein and her companion Alice B. Toklas. That’s why visitors to Paris flock here: to find the graves of the poets, artists, actors, writers, composers and politically notable figures buried here. Jim Morrison’s grave is of particular interest to the masses. But because Père-Lachaise is so big - and the rock legend’s grave so unassuming - it’s hard to find. In fact, in more than a dozen visits, I’ve yet to spot the late lead singer of the Doors.

Père-Lachaise takes its name from Père Françoise de la Chaise, a Jesuit priest who was the confessor to King Louis XIV who lived on the grounds. But the cemetery was established in 1804 by Napoleon. At the time, it was considered to be outside the city of Paris, which was the whole point, given that cemeteries had been banned as a major health hazard within the city. But that also presented the administrators with the challenge of attracting business. Their strategy was to transfer the remains of Jean de la Fontaine and the French writer Molière to the grounds when they opened. After more famous remains were transferred in 1817, the people of Paris began clamoring to be buried with the rich and famous. Within a few years, Père-Lachaise went from a few dozen permanent residents to over 33,000. Today, more than 300,000 bodies are buried there.

 For me, it’s not the “Who” that keeps me coming back to Père-Lachaise. It’s the beauty of the place, with the cobbled paths that wind their way through a forest of tombs. These living monuments are, to me, works of art, etched with magnificent artwork and stained glass. Even beneath a canopy of gray clouds, gloom has no home in this place. Instead, there is serenity. The only souls haunting Père-Lachaise belong to the living.

I tend to get lost in the maze of tombs each time I visit, but I still always find my way back to the center of the cemetery, where “she” awaits me. I call this statue the Weeping Lady, because she stands vigil over the dead, weeping silently for those they left behind. I can’t help but seek her out time after time. I find solace in the duty she’s undertaken on behalf of others unwilling, or perhaps unable, to bear the pain that she withstands so stoically.