In keeping with our journal’s spirit of unremitting morbidity , I spent this past Saturday morning in a graveyard. This was no ordinary graveyard, mind you, but Princeton Cemetery , which has been called the “Westminster Abbey of the United States.”
Dozens of luminaries, including John von Neumann, Kurt Goedel, Grover Cleveland, Aaron Burr and Jonathan Edwards jostle for space there, but the best grave by far belongs to Paul Tulane. Stone markers outline a huge area as exclusively his, and in the center there stands a massive statue of him. The total effect is so majestic that it is not obvious whether the stone slab that lies before the statue invites one to pray for or to Mr. Tulane. When I die, however few and unimpressive my attainments, I want my tomb à la Tulane.
