In Mexico at this time of year, the people get ready for one of their biggest holidays - Dios
de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. They clean out their houses so that the spirits of
their dead ancestors will feel welcome, they cook special food for them and prepare small
toys for the Angelitos - the spirits of small children who died young. They feel that it is
important to remember their ties to the past and to treat the Dead with not just respect, but
with affection.
Even though this is the time of year when we also think of the dead, our concern is much
more superficial. We have fun with images of ghosts, witches and skeletons. We carve
pumpkins and give out candy to Trick-or-Treaters but ironically, we don't spend much time
actually thinking about the Dead themselves. This is a fairly recent development, however.
Incongruous as it seems, the people living in this area in the 18th and 19th centuries would
have understood the Mexicans pretty well; they certainly shared their attitude toward their
Dead. Spend an afternoon walking through one of our local cemeteries and you might
come to share it to an extent as well.
Surry Village Cemetery
A good place to start is in the Surry Village Cemetery, located behind the Surry Town
Hall. Like many local cemeteries, it is divided into two sections: one that is currently used
and one that is a bit older. "Older", in this case is a bit of an understatement. Many of the
gravestones are several hundred years old. It's generally pretty easy to get a rough idea of
how old a given stone is at a glance. Hard stone has only been used for memorials
relatively recently; granite stones usually mark the plots of people from the 1900's. Marble
stones are generally of Civil War vintage and earlier markers from the 17th and 18th
centuries are usually made of softer stone, like slate.
What is really striking about the graves here is the names and titles of the people. The
names run the gamut from the prosaic (Thomas, John, Elizabeth, Mary) to the biblical
(Moses, Ruth, Abijah) to the just plain odd (Sarepta, Theadosia, Eliphalet, Zilpah,
Zeruiah). Women, in particular were often named after character traits that, presumably, it
was hoped they would display (Prudence, Content), but it is painfully obvious that poor
Rodentia Ingalls must have been teased as a child. There is an Ichabod Crain. The most
eyebrow-raising names have to be those of Mrs. Experience Crain and Freelove P. Phillips.
Adult men are always referred to formally; there are no nicknames. Woman are usually
referred to familiarly; for every Jonathon, Isaiah or Hiram, there is a Lucy, Polly or Meg.
(Say the name Nelly Cheever aloud - it is a wonderfully comfortable name.) While the
men are referred to by their titles, if any - Reverend, Lieutenant, etc....- the women are
always referred to by their relationships with men, usually described as a "wife", a
"widow", in one case a "consort" or in another, unflatteringly, as "relict". One stone has
no name or dates, but is labeled simply, "Mother".
Just when it is tempting to laugh at these people, a stone hints at their humanity. Samuel
and Lucy Hill are buried side by side with their three children: Polly - aged 12, Isaac - aged
3 weeks, 4 days, and Salmon - 1 hour old. The children were not killed in a single
epidemic, as was often the case, but years apart. The heartbreak of these parents who lost
one young child after another comes across poignantly. Another stone was obviously
erected by a poor man or woman who couldn't afford the services of a professional
stonecutter. The letters, which were scratched by hand into a broken slab of granite are
eloquent, even while being almost illegible. "Died....yere....1767...Day of..." The mental
image of some poor man or woman scratching, scratching away at this hard stone day after
day, probably in the cold, possibly by candlelight is sobering. Unlike the weathered,
eroded stones that surround it, Captain Thomas Harvey's memorial is a bronze plaque
mounted on a 3-ton boulder. Mary Dort left a forwarding address of sorts - a carved
finger pointing upwards.
Meetinghouse Cemetery, Marlborough
Directions: Take Rte. 124 East form Marlborough for 2.3 miles. Turn left onto Frost Hill
Rd. The cemetery is .5 miles on the right.
Another fascinating cemetery is the Meetinghouse Cemetery in Marlborough. It is full of
very old gravestones in immaculate condition. Like its counterpart in Surry, most of them
date from the 18th and 19th centuries. Most have either a poem or a picture carved in
relief. The cameos of angels, willow trees, crowns or sheaves of grain are graceful and
beautiful, but the poems and epitaphs on the stones give a real glimpse into the lives of the
people buried there. The most well known is that of Patty Ward, 5th daughter of Captain
Reuben and Sally Ward, who was killed in 1795 at the age of 5. It is heartbreaking.
"By boiling cyder she was slain,
whilst less than six of age.
Then her exquisite racking pain,
Removed her from the stage.
But her immortal spirit went,
To the Almighty King;
Where all the godly ones are sent.
The praise of God to sing."
The grave of Mehitebel Stone, who died in 1813 reads,
"Naked as from the earth we came.
And crept to life at first.
We to the earth return again,
And mingle with our dust.
The dear delight we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but short favours borrowed now,
To be repaid anon."
That of her husband, Lieutenant Calvin Stone is more succinct. It reads,
"He died with Christian fortitude."
But perhaps the most moving epitaph is one of the simplest. Sarah, wife of Samuel
Taggard, who died on February 17, 1855, aged 68 years is memorialized with the
following:
"Our mother taught us love
And how to live and die."
