Unbearable heat is pouring from the summer sky. Maybe it is not the best day to be outside, but going for a short walk in the shadows sounds like a good idea. It's been over two months since we came back from Algarve to Porto, so I felt like discovering something new, located nearby. Someplace that I have never been before, which makes the task a bit more challenging. The choice went to the old, mysterious and yet beautiful graveyard.
I was passing Agramonte cemetery many times when going to buy vegetables in my favourite local frutaria. I heard about it here and there and was many times tempted by the beautiful architecture that relentlessly peaks out from the high cast-iron fence. But as it often is with places we have nearby, I never visited it, because, well, it will always be nearby, right?
After ten minutes of walking from my place, I am happy to see the fence of Agramonte and especially the numerous trees that give some shadow. The mysterious gate opens onto a broad path, in the middle of which a cat licks its fur while resting in the shade of the magnolia tree. I step into the cemetery. The air is getting thick with personal stories and history that this place remembers...
The Plague
It is 1855. Through Portugal, including Porto, a great epidemic of cholera is passing. Illness is knocking on every door, without caring about social or economic status. The poorest people however, who live in the worst conditions, are more affected by the disease. The rotting breath of death covers the whole city. There are no funeral processions, as the numbers of the dead still grow. The civil authorities decide to close private graveyards to avoid spreading the illness and create the big, communal cemetery - Agramonte, distanced from the city.
Maybe it does not make any difference for the dead ones in which cemetery their corpses decompose, but the family members, still alive, care about status. As mostly cholera victims are buried on the land of Agramonte, over time Prado do Repouso starts to be a more prestigious place for eternal rest.
The most prestigious graveyard
History quickly changes the status of Agramonte. In 1870/71, Gustavo Adolfo Gonçalves designed a new chapel. The previous one, wooden and modest, was replaced by one with beautiful stucco, created with consideration of the latest art trends. In 1906, when Agramonte was already considered a prestigious place for eternal rest, the chapel was enlarged. The principal architect of Porto, José Marques da Silva, creator of the famous São Bento station, designed the project. The decoration of the chapel includes Byzantium inspired paintings, executed by Silvestro Silvestri.
Descending
Near the chapel another wonder, impossible to miss, was erased. The Municipal Burial Monument towers over Agramonte with its three-levelled oval construction. Created with granite and iron, the structure is impressive both from outside as well as from the inside. External walls, instead of windows, are covered with plaques. Some are empty, but on some I can read the names engraved on the granite.
I slowly enter the space. An echo of my steps is hitting the wall to come back to me, even louder and more disturbing, scattering in the place. The uncanniness of this place intensifies when I look around. Soft light is leaking from above, filtered by the glass of the intricately decorated, large skylight.
If not for the iron plaques, densely arranged on the walls, this place could be mistaken with a theatre or a concert hall. Galleries and balconies run around the oval structure. It is hard to avoid an impression of being observed, even though there is no one inside.
On the left side, a long trolley to transport coffins is resting, pointlessly waiting for the next use. On the right, an elevating platform remains sadly frozen, like its ascending movement was interrupted in the middle.
At the end of the space an iron staircase leads to the top of the building, but my fear of climbing stairs, mixed with the weirdness of this place, makes me postpone it for another time. Maybe even, so well-known here, for eternity. But behind the stairs that lead to the upper gallery there are granite steps heading downstairs. To get there, I have to leave the cool building and enter the full sun again.
After a minute, I am standing in front of the steps. Going downstairs is a bit unpleasant. Even though the doors were wide open, inviting to go down, I feel claustrophobic, stuck between two walls with numbers above the repositories. The sweet smell of humidity fills the space.
I fight a twinge of doubt and go to the end of the corridor, with twin stairs to the one that I came down, but with closed window doors which are, of course, locked. I rush back to the exit, which a while before was my entrance. When I go out for air, I am honestly happy to breathe again.
I glimpse above my arm at this construction and I am fairly impressed with its magnificence.
From alive to dead
What always delights me in the old cemetery is that they are connecting external life into the structure. The mausolea are an interpretation of external architecture, including that of houses. In Agramonte, for example, the tomb of the Thiago de Lobão family could easily be mistaken with an exclusive villa. A marvelous portico leads to the doors of the mausoleum. Two columns, inspired by the ancient Ionic order, support a big triangular pediment crowned by coats of arms. Below, to not mistake the owner of it, big letters announce that this last terrestrial palace belongs to the Counts of S. Thiago de Lobão.
The ambulatory, with its massive columns, highlights the greatness of this structure. On two sides of the building huge semicircular, stained glass windows decorate walls. But behind them I can see nothing else but the darkness of emptiness.
Majestic sculptures decorate graves, making this place a unique art exposition. Some of them were designed by the most famous Portuguese sculptors such as Teixeira Lopes and Soares dos Reis.
The other thing that makes old cemeteries unique is a rich flora that makes these places bizarrely beautiful. Japanese camellia, cedar trees and magnolia are just three of many types of trees that are growing in Agramonte. Sometimes a soft breeze, that feels heavenly in days like this, brings a sweet scent of flowers. To my big surprise, it is a rare custom to put fresh flowers on the graves.
Cemetery of the famous
Some of the tombs are majestic, with elaborate architecture and decoration. Others are as simple as Romanesque chapels. A unique view is created by ossuaries: the walls are filled with small plaques behind which bones are stored. Agramonte is also the place of eternal rest for people well known in Porto and even in the rest of Portugal. Literary critic Carolina Michaëlis, pianist and composer Miguel Ângelo Pereira, photographer Emílio Biel or Júlio Dinis, doctor and writer, are buried here.
For me, the most exciting was to accidentally find the grave of Ernesto Chardron, the writer and book collector, with whom the history of the famous Livraria Lello started.
European Cemeteries Route
Maybe graveyards do not seem like the best travel destination. However, for me, they are always a great place to discover a little bit more about people and the city that I visit. The architecture of the tombs and sculptures that decorate monuments tell a lot about the culture. And I am not alone in that thinking. There is an association of Significant Cemeteries of Europe that created the European Cemeteries Route. On this list, Agramonte proudly and deservedly found its place.
What the wind whispers
In my personal life, all the funerals I attended happened in autumn. That, together with the big tradition of All Saints Day, celebrated in November, makes me connotate the moment of death with the fall season. Now, with the burning sun and thirty degree heat, it is hard for me to think about this place as a site of mourning. But there is something mystical in the stillness of this place. Birds sing their melodies and leaves flutter on the wind, reminding us that the world never stops and everything is always keeping its pace, with no matter of personal circumstances.
I glimpse on the tomb on which a black, skinny cat sits proudly. Like an Egyptian Sphinx, it seems to guard the grave. I leave with the thought that each monument has its features. They can be connected to a particular style, a mixture of them or be outstanding and unique. In spite of this, each of them maintains a history of family, love, friendship, but also pain, grieving and sometimes even relief and forgiveness.
Each of them has a story to tell. If you listen carefully to what the wind is whispering, you will know - it is a (hi)story of us all.
