Nostradamus buried in Saint-Laurent church in Salon-de-Provence... and one more mystery!
Here lies Nostradamus
Yes, the curiosity here is Michel de Nostradamus’ grave! Come here with me, in the chapel of Our-Lady…
This simple flagstone is our grave! We can read on it Michel’s epitaph, re-writing in July 1813.
In the past, we found it on the primitive grave. It says:
RELIQUIAE MICHAELIS NOSTRADAMI IN HOC SACELLVM TRANSLATAE FVERVNT POST ANNVM MDCCLXXXIX. EPITAPHIVM RESTITVTVM MENSE JVLII MDCCCXIII.
In English, it means:
″Here lie Michel Nostradamus’ remains, the only man who can, with his quill, predict the future, in the whole world.
"He lived 62 years, 6 months, 17 days and died in Salon in 1566. Posterity, don’t trouble his rest.
"Anne Ponsard from Salon wishes her husband the eternal bliss.″
Between this sentence are Michel and his son César’s portraits.. made by this last one!
I’ll die next to a bench
Michel predicted his own death, in one of his quatrain: De retour d’ambassade, don du roi, mis au lieu Plus n'en fera. Sera allé à Dieu Proches parents, amis et frères de sang Trouvé tout mort, près du lit et du banc, which means that back from Paris where he met the king, he came back in Salon and he died next to a bench…
That really happened! Because one night of July 1556, Michel wrote: ″Tomorrow morning, when the sun will rise, I will be dead.″
And people found him in the morning… dead near a bench, in his bedroom.
In his will, Nostradamus said he wanted to be buried in the church of Saint-Laurent. A first choice… because, for a reason we don’t know, he then asked to be buried in the church of Cordeliers of Salon.
So they buried him here, then his last remains moved in their current place: church of Saint-Laurent.
Did you know Nostradamus asked to be buried standing up, in a wall of the church of Cordeliers?
Woah, a whim? In fact, he quarreled a lot with inhabitants of Salon, before he died.
So he hated them a lot and feared one thing, more than death: that those idiots walked on his flagstone with their big muddy clogs!
A tradition even says in the 18th century he was buried alive with his quill, paper and candles...