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Awful ends: The British Museum book of epitaphs

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Book by Wilson, David M.

96 pages, Paperback

First published December 1, 1992

14 people want to read

About the author

David M. Wilson

27 books2 followers
Sir David Mackenzie Wilson is an English archaeologist, art historian, and museum curator, specialising in Anglo-Saxon art and the Viking Age. He lives on the Isle of Man.

Wilson was the director of the British Museum from 1977 to 1992, and a member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. In 1985 he was Slade Professor of Fine Art at the University of Cambridge.

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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
Profile Image for ^.
907 reviews65 followers
February 10, 2016
Whether buried or cremated, our forebears were by far more familiar with death than we are. Not even ‘Man’s best friend’ was overlooked:

Beneath this stone are deposited the remains of one who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, and all the Virtues of Man without his Vices. This praise which would be unmeaning Flatterry, if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just Tribute to the Memory of BOATSWAIN, a dog.” [Epitaph to Lord Byron’s dog]

David Wilson, an archaeologist, brings all manner of fascinating epitaphs, real and fictional, from the Roman to the twentieth century, to the attention of his reader. His appetite whetting table of Contents is irresistibly tempting, comprising Preface – Introduction – In Memoriam – The Dear Departed – The Rude Forefathers – The Great and the Good – And the Not So Good – Country or Cause – Mechanical Failure –They Should have Died. He thoughtfully includes both an Index and a biography of sources.

The rich pleasures of a few snatched minutes spent pondering upon such inscriptions are not to be dismissed lightly. The epitaph, having first established the deceased, should celebrate the virtues of the deceased, as opposed to being a vehicle for the composer to show-off; always a danger at a time of heightened emotion. The importance also of accuracy; commissioning a capable and clear headed stonemason is emphasised. Verses of a sentimental nature should always be considered with great care and attention. Unfortunate sentiments continue to pop-up in our newspaper obituary columns of the present day.

Therein may lie a squeal of discovery within an epitaph. Often composed after the death of the subject, set in stone at a time of distress and heightened emotion; epitaphs can vary from the sublime to the inaccurate, from the factual to the corrupt, from the dutiful to the unfortunate:

“In Memory of
Charles Ward
Who died May 1770
Aged 63 years
A dutiful son, a loving brother,
And an affectionate husband.
N.B. This stone was not erected by Susan his wife. She erected a stone to
John Salter her second husband, forgetting the affection of Charles Ward her first husband.”


“Awful Ends …” is emphatically not a book to be abandoned in ‘the smallest room’; but is one to read aloud, to be inspired by, and to see for what it is: the most marvellous expression of human life, loves and foibles.

Alas, all does not end happily. Boatswain died in 1808. Wider reading reveals that Lord Byron had intended to be buried in the same vault as his beloved dog; but was unable to, following the sale of the house, Newstead Abbey, in the County of Nottinghamshire, England.
Profile Image for Andrew Garvey.
670 reviews10 followers
December 31, 2018
A compulsively readable meander through the (largely British with some American and Imperial) epitaphs of the great, the good, the bad, the worse, and the anonymous, Wilson's selection of both real and apocryphal verses and tributes is great fun.

There's everything from the famously reverent, like Laurence Binyon's 'They shall not grow old...' to the truly, joyously ridiculous:

'Here lies John Bun,
Who was killed by a gun,
His name was not Bun, but Wood,
But Wood would not rhyme with gun,
but Bun would.'

Politicians come in for a kicking every now and again. An anonymous 'tribute' to Lloyd George could probably apply to any number of people who've sat in the Commons for the last few hundred years:

'Count not his broken pledges as a crime:
He meant them, HOW he meant them - at the time.'

Writing an epitaph is, it seems, a good way to have the last word on someone you weren't a fan of in life, even if they're not a politician. This one, from someone Wilson identifies only as H. Jacob reads:

'Here Delia's buried at fourscore;
When young, a lewd, rapacious Whore,
Vain, and expensive; but when old,
A pious, sordid, drunken Scold.'

Nice.
Profile Image for Alison.
952 reviews272 followers
October 19, 2018
Not a bad quick read, with some whit and cringes and odd guff. Some interesting 'death' poetry and Wilson has added some history and location to his 'quotes'. Makes you think, what will you write on your epitaph?
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