Marie Marthe Augustine Lemaitre Brémont (née Mesange) (25 April 1886 – 6 June 2001)[1] was a French supercentenarian and the oldest recognized person in the world from November 2000 until her death.[2] This means she was the oldest living person at the turn of the century, and the new millenium, and therefore the person with the earliest birthdate that lived into the 21st century. Brémont was the first 114- as well as 115-year-old to live in three different centuries. Her record as the oldest person to have lived in three centuries has since been surpassed by several people, first in 2002 by Maude Farris-Luse. Brémont was the second Frenchwoman to hold the title of the oldest living person, after longevity world record holder Jeanne Calment.[3]
Marie Brémont | |
|---|---|
| Born | 25 April 1886 |
| Died | 6 June 2001 (aged 115 years, 42 days) |
Biography
Brémont was born as Marie Marthe Augustine Mesange in Noëllet,[2] and her first husband, railroad worker Constant Lemaitre, was killed in the First World War. She married again to a taxi driver, Florentin Brémont, who died in 1967.[citation needed]
Over the course of her life, she worked in a pharmaceutical factory, as a nanny and as a seamstress. At 103, she was hit by a car and broke her arm.[citation needed]
She died at her retirement home at age 115 years 42 days in Candé, Maine-et-Loire, having had no children, and was the last documented surviving person born in 1886.[citation needed]
See also
References
- ^ "World's oldest woman dies at 115". BBC News online. 6 June 2001. Retrieved 29 December 2007.
- ^ a b "Marie Bremont". Associated Press. 7 June 2001. Retrieved 29 December 2007.
Marie Brémont, a 115-year-old French woman, believed to be the world's oldest person, died Wednesday, ending a journey through life that spanned three centuries. Brémont died in her sleep at a retirement home in Candé. She was considered the world's oldest person since the death of Eva Morris of Britain in November, just four days before the latter's 115th birthday.
- ^ MAD DOG: Bottling the Fountain of Youth | AlterNet