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The TALES you probably never heard about

GRAVEYARD TALES

Time-worn tombstones can tell us a lot about our past

By Debra Ann Yeo

[St. Catharines Standard, 16 July 1988]

In 1843, a British author writing about graveyards likened them to books-able to instruct in history, biography, architecture and sculpture, even good taste and morals.

The unusual military motif of a soldier resting on a reversed musket decorated a soldier's grave in St. Make's churchyard.

Glen Smith of Niagara-on-the Lake would agree that graveyards, and in particular tombstones, have something to say to those who view them

Six years ago, as exercise for a newly-healed broken leg, he visited 28 burial grounds in Niagara-on-the-Lake, ranging from tiny one-family pioneer plots to the first community burial place, St. Mark’s churchyard.

Today, some of the stones Mr. Smith admired and photographed are illegible, slowly being obliterated by airborne pollutants and weather. Others fall prey to vandals, falling branches or other accidents.

Mr. Smith, backed by the Niagara Foundation, has begun a quiet campaign to ensure that some of the older and more unusual specimens survive for future generations. .

In a town whose bread-and-butter is its history, Mr. Smith, a historical contractor, calls tombstones “one of the overlooked” facets of our heritage.

The broken stones piled against trees in the town’s churchyards give mute testimony to his words.

He told the town’s recreational committee last spring that a dozen of the town’s oldest and best stones should be removed, replaced with granite markers and stored in a safe place for future display in a museum.

The Ministry of Consumer and Commercial Relations has given permission for the stones to be removed, but it wants to know which markers are involved.

Through the foundation, which promotes the preservation, restoration and maintenance of historic sites, Mr. Smith has begun collecting stones from private and individuals. If the town agrees to salvage monuments from the nine abandoned graveyards, it manages, Mr. Smith then plans to approach the churches.

“People would be quite flattered that their gravestones 200 years later are such a focus of attention. And the people who made their living carving gravestones-their work is commemorated and their skills judged,” he said.

He considers the markers works of art, an opinion shared by Carole Hanks, author of Early Ontario Gravestones.

“Of all the early Canadian artifacts, tombstones are the ones most certainly created to endure,” she writes.

She said gravestones a century ago “were objects of pleasing form and decoration, meant to be enjoyed by the living and, as well, pay respect to the dead.”

Ironically our ancestors’ desire to beautify their memorials has hastened some stones demise.

Marble was the stone most used by the mid-1800s because its softness allowed detailed carvings by hand, yet that very quality also allows rapid weathering. The stone’s granular structure is loosened by water, causing it to fall away bit by bit, especially at the edges of the carving.

Sandstone and slate, also soft stones, were sometimes used and, in Niagara, harder and cruder limestone was available from the escarpment.

Yet even harder stone is vulnerable to pollution. On a tour of several graveyards, Mr. Smith pointed out many examples of what he believes to be acid rain, sulphides and other pollutants turning the surface of monuments into powder to be washed away by rain and snow.

Mr. Smith, whose work as a historical contractor includes research, restoration, collections management and public education, has visited about 200 Ontario cemeteries. He has never seen a stone older than that in the wall of the vestibule at St. Mark’s Church.

It reads: LEONARD BLANCK

DESEACED, 5TH

AUG. T. 1782

The earliest stones contained no decoration but the inscription.

The lettering was often crude, full of spelling letters with uneven spacing and words squeezed over the top of other words if the carver ran out of room.

An example of this early type, the gravestone for Archibald Cunningham, can be found in St. Mark’s churchyard. He died in 1804.

By 1815, decorated stones began to appear in Niagara-on-the-Lake cemeteries. The earliest were engraved symbols. Later, motifs were sculpted in relief as skilled professional monument carvers emerged in the 1820s and 1830s, some of them leaving their names and addresses on the stones.

The commonly-used symbols comprise five main categories, according to the Hinks book-classical revival (willows, urns, columns and obelisks). Flowers, hands (as in the hand of God), animals and angels.

They formed what Mr. Smith describes as a subtext of grief, each with its own meaning. The weeping willow tree, for instance, one of the most popular ones, represented mourning and the tree of eternal life, as well as the Gospel of Christ.

Two of the symbols, lambs and doves, were used almost exclusively on children’s stones, the lamb representing Christ, youth and innocence and the dove, purity and peace.

Undoubtedly, the most grim motif in Niagara can be found in St. Mark’s where a slithering snake and the words, “Upon thy belly shalt thou go,” appear on an 1839 tombstone.

Besides being decorative and commemorative, gravestone symbols could also reveal something of the religious beliefs of the deceased and the kin.

A broken chain, for example, is one motif that might be chosen by a person who believed “you’re just going to rot in the ground,” Mr. Smith said.

The trumpeting angel Gabriel, sometimes accompanied by the words “Arise ye dead,” is one of the more obvious symbols of resurrection. Yet, according to one book, this motif is rarely found on 19th century stones in either Canada or the United States.

However, a variation of the angel Gabriel can be seen in the Field burial ground on the Niagara Parkway where members of the Field, Brown and Vrooman families are buried. What makes it so unusual is that Gabriel, commonly thought of as a male angel, is portrayed as female.

The angel and a willow decorate the double headstone of Joseph Brown, who died in 1821, and his wife Rebecca Johnson who died in 1808.

It is part of what Mr. Smith calls “the three best stones in the entire Peninsula.” The latter two of the trio commemorate Rebecca Brown, a daughter who died in January 1808 and Nancy Vrooman, who died in April 1808.

Both monuments feature a symbol which is extremely rare in Ontario, the winged face of an angel, representing the soul in flight.

All three markers face east-another peculiarity of early gravestones-and the Joseph Brown marker contains a common, though sobering, epitaph:

Remember men when thou pass by
As you are now so once were we,
As we are now so thou must be,
Remember men that all must die.

Tombstones often reveal history, both of the textbook and the personal and the personal kind, said Mr. Smith.

“You can almost spot immediately when cholera was in the area,” he notes. He has seen stones in St. Catharines that tell of an entire family wiped out within a week.

“The odds were that a guy could get married two or three times. Chances were that the wife died at some point giving birth. The odds were that 50 per cent of the kids died before they were six years old,” he says.

“Her days on earth were few. She passed away like morning dew,” declares a tiny stone with a sculpted lamb for an 11-day girl named Korah in the Warner family cemetery.

War also claimed its victims. A stone just inside the main doors of St. Mark’s commemorates four soldiers who died the day the Americans took the town in the war of 1812.

A vault-like stone in the churchyard also attests to the insanities of war, not so much by its lettering (now illegible) as by the scars on its surface. It was used as a butcher’s block by the Americans occupying the town.

According to Janet Carnochan’s booklet, Inscriptions and Graves in the Niagara Peninsula, it commemorates Charles Morrison, who had lived in Michilimackinac and was on his way to Montreal, via Niagara when he died on Sept. 6, 1804, aged 65 years.

HOWARD FRETZ MEMORY

19 August 1904-10 May 1988

It is Easter Morning, wonderful day of hope and assurance for all people. As the sun is slowly rising in the east, our family is stirring, Father, Mother, my younger sister and baby brother. Someone, likely Mother, softly singing, “Low in the grave He lays, Jesus my Saviour, Waiting the coming day. Jesus my Lord.”

We all join in, even baby brother. Father who cannot sing alone except when rocking the baby, then he has a quaint little lullaby all his own.

I hear Father open the door of the big airtight heater and with the poker stir the coals, likely a large elm knot fitted in the night before or possibly maple or beech, and with a small fire shovel he takes coals to the kitchen stove while colored sparks fly, he lays on the kindling prepared the night before.

By now the crackling of the fire has created a warm cozy atmosphere and whetted appetites.

We thank God for the food. Mother brings a steaming plate of pancakes and with liverwurst or perhaps bacon and eggs, all produced and processed on the farm. Soon the Bible is read and we have family worship with everyone kneeling in prayer. I go to the barn with Father to feed the stock, milk the cows, separate the milk and feed the calves, hogs and chickens.

Before Church we children eagerly search for small berry baskets lined with soft green moss gathered the day before on and beneath a nearby rail fence.

The boxes are covered with bright colored paper and tied with ribbon. They usually contained two eggs which had been wrapped in onion skins and boiled which gave a soft brown color, also small candy eggs of the jelly bean variety.

We hitch the team and start for the nearby Dunkard Church, later the brethren in Christ. We ride in a two seated democrat wagon with covered top and side curtains.

As we enter, the children go to a room for Sunday School, then to the sanctuary where the men sit on the right, the women on the left.

There is a raised platform at front used as a mourner’s bench where the very young and sometimes very old, bow to make their peace with God during the Revival Meeting.

On the platform is the long pulpit or desk and back of it the bench for the ministers, usually two or three in number.

One minister lines the song and calls for someone to raise the tune, today it will be “Christ Arose,” and likely the inspiring Coronation Hymn of the Church, “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.”

The second minister reads one of the profound resurrection scriptures followed by a sermon of one hour and all experience edification of spirit thereby.

On Easter Sunday we go to Grandpa Shafers for dinner. No one could cook like Grandma or my Mother, as they are Pennsylvania Dutch, so on this day there is a large platter of fried eggs, roast chicken, dressing, mashed potatoes and all that goes with a German Easter Dinner. Very appealing to an eight year old boy.

Grandpa asks the blessing sometimes in German. In our home the musical instruments consisted of Mother’s accordion and the children’ mouth organ. And, oh we loved to sing!!!

At Grandpa’s there is Uncle John, Mother’s younger brother, who had that marvelous invention, the gramophone with “His Master’s Voice.” Trademark, a cute little dog with turned head peering into the purple horn as he hears his Master’s voice.

Shy, likeable Uncle John, one of a kind, born in a sod house in Nebraska. When Grandpa took his family from Pennsylvania, he lived in Iowa, Kansas and Nebraska and while some settlers became wealthy, the locust, hail, prairie fires and drought drove them from State to State and to Canada in 1900 to farm. They first lost their cattle in a T.B. test and their barn by fire, but with a strong faith in God, they never quit.

Uncle John never married, and at seventy years of age sat on his bed and died with heart failure.

Part of his estate built a fine Medical Clinic at the Montreal Lake Indian Children’s Home, housing sixty-four native children, Timber Bay Indian Reserve, Sask.

Again we hear the appropriate “Christ Arose” and others pertaining to the resurrection and our hearts are lifted in Praise to God for his unspeakable gift to mankind.

At home, Mother would sing the beautiful “America” never “The Star Spangled Banner” and she taught us in German “Stille Nacht Meilige Nacht” and Gott ist die Leibe.”

The sun is sinking in the west and we return home and the chores of the morning are repeated. As we snuggle down in our warm feather beds, we thank God for our parents, family love, our home and that “THE LORD IS RISEN INDEED.” Luke 24:34