In these complex times of international conflict, a contemplative visit to Prague Cemetery helps. No, not the novel by Umberto Eco, and no, not the famous Jewish cemetery in Prague, but the less well-known, but beautiful Prague Cemetery in Stuttgart, Germany.
Pragfriedhof Stuttgart is unique with its huge trees, ubiquitous flowers and lush vegetation, the many statues standing sentinel over the graves, the beautiful art nouveau crematorium by the Swiss-German architect Wilhelm Scholter that houses the columbarium urns, and the lower ‘’celebration hall’’ in ‘’Brutalist style’’ by Indonesian-German architect Harry G.H. Lie.
The cemetery is also the burial site for miscarried children, sites a Russian orthodox church, and has a dedicated Jewish section, set up in 1874. This includes an area for the Jewish soldiers who fought and fell for Germany in World War I. It also hosts a memorial put up in 1947 for the victims of national socialism who faced unforgettable atrocities of the Holocaust. It is worth looking at cemeteries as a type of history book and source of lessons to avoid repetition of blind prejudice and heinous acts. On a lighter note, or rather a less crushing memory, Pragfriedhof Stuttgart also houses a range of famous people, including the Graf Ferdinand von Zeppelin, who, yes, made the iconic Zeppelins. Also, there are mayors, social-reformers, bankers, politicians, poets, writers, musicians, and even an opera singer. All walks of life stopped here. 24 hectares, 29,000 graves and many layers of a very complex history.
I’m always torn about cemetery tourism, but I’ve concluded that it depends on the attitude one brings. For me the Pragfriedhof it is not tourism, as I have a family member resting there, but, again personally, I wouldn’t mind right-minded, respectful tourists visiting, contemplating beauty, loss, and history, as long as in discrete numbers, not disturbing those there for personal loss. As ever, it is a tricky balance, but with the right amount and type of respect, and sensitivity to the grieving, I don’t see a problem. There is beauty and not just loss.
The sculpted faces on the art nouveau style crematorium are impressive sentinels, their faces hewn into stark lines, with arching brows, strong noses, cheekbones, and earnest contemplation of loss. One has their mouth open as if sighing at the loss. Another looks at the world straight on – a resigned but slightly combative acceptance of loss. Loss is just so. With the years, the rock eroded, been sullied by pollution, and the strong shadows are augmented by the black sweat and tears of history.
Underneath there are two curving wings of the columbarium with hundreds of metal plates remembering the lost – many with flowers (live and plastic), most with dates and names in different fonts, some noting professions, others just the name, a few with their hard-won titles. While the columbarium is arguably the graveyard’s ‘’centrepiece’’, most of the Pragfriedhof consists of hectares of graves, each a unique memory, a homage to those no longer with us. Everyone grieves in their own way.
Among the well-disbursed graves and marble gravestones (nothing feels cramped), stand a few angels, effigies of Jesus, and other statutes to remember those gone. They are still, making us still. There is a weary but patient elegance of yearning, of longing, of the pathos of loss, that gets under my skin. Respect for the dead.
Others just embody sadness, grief.
There in one with a snake rising up a cross. Snakes can be symbols of everlasting life (as they shed their skin and regain vigour), and when represented as circles are symbols of eternity, called ouroboros when eating their tails. They can be signs of sin or Satan and hence the fall of man, and a Masonic sign of the crucifixion. I can’t fathom the intention behind the snake rising towards the tilted crest of a bird, held by a proud, straight-backed bird. I doubt it is a sculpted criticism that those buried underneath were lost to temptation, that they were lost to illicit knowledge, the original sin of seeking knowledge of good and evil. I think knowledge cannot in itself be evil, though its use may be – nuclear bombs, chemical warfare, AI gone awry. But even here we need knowledge to resist applications that could erode or undermine civilisation.
We also need to keep alive the memory of those who undermined the freedom of thought in the past to battle those seeking its destruction now. We can’t imagine past book burnings again happening in our streets, but foreign interest or ideologically driven AI-bot-based disinformation campaigns arguably can do far worse. History is replete with past ideological brainwashing with heinous consequences. Today we again see the erosion of free thought, laws passed that undermine individual rights to protest, erode civil society rights and with it, democracy, trust in institutions and resilience of civilisations to harmful and corrosive interests. We are at the cusp of a dangerous new era, and if we are being lucid, must admit that we are already past the threshold in many countries, while at risk in others. Votes count.
While I am tempted to stare at the graves and keep contemplating the destructive side of history and dangers of today, cemeteries are also locations for free thought of a more creative type. Poets and authors too are housed in the Pragfriedhof. And writers have been inspired by cemeteries, from above-mentioned Umberto Eco to 1972 Nobel Prize winner Heinrich Boell’s profound anti-war tales, Wanderer, kommst Du nach Spa…, Neil Gaiman’s more entertaining fantasy masterpiece The Graveyard Book, Ayanna Lloyd Banwo’s mystical and lyrical When We Were Birds. Writers can help keep important memories alive and fight against historical blindness, and creativity gives us hope.
The choice is yours: contemplate private loss, read the history of a cemetery to shed light on the present, or be inspired by the setting to create a literary marvel, imbued, as ever with the temptation of man and questions we all face in these complex times.
Pragfriedhof Stuttgart can be reached via lines U5, US, U7 and U15, and is walking distance from both the Stuttgart Library, an astonishingly beautiful and calm modern library, and the expansive and welcoming Killesberg Park which also houses Eliszis Jahrmarktstheater that is a timeless theatre and funfair, and the Killesbergturm, an architectural delight with a view over the city.
