Winter has departed and the warmth of sun has prompted a journey to the Old North Cemetery in Concord. The ancient stones from the past two centuries are symbolic of a time when death was interpreted differently.
The gravestones were placed in many shapes and sizes, some symbolic of the career the deceased worked during their years. The earliest gravestones are slate with sharp inscriptions that have weathered time quite well in most cases. There are marble stones and some granite stones. The gravestone material is engraved with vital details such as the deceased name and dates of birth and death. Quite fascinating in itself to read these old names, which have not been used in a long time.
As I walk from gravestone to gravestone under the bright sun, I speak the names aloud. I say their names for many have not been spoken and I find comfort with those names. It’s a reverent thing to do and in a way it’s a tribute similar to an informal prayer. The names are certainly of the utmost importance, but there is something else that intrigues me. It is the epitaph.
There was a time when many stones boasted an epitaph. A brief summary of an event or matter that was important to the deceased. Common prior to the Civil War the Colonial period and after allowed the writings of the epitaph to flow, especially here in New England. Sadly, these old epitaphs are being lost slowly with the years, not to vandals or malicious behavior, to the New England weather.
As I continue my slow walk around the Old North Cemetery, I notice beautiful inscriptions flowing across the moss-covered marble gravestones, but it is no longer clear and concise as it once was. The marble stones tend to suffer to a greater degree with the loss of the epitaphs while the old slate stones retain the original words in a clear manner. It is the slate that preserves the epitaph well. Granite gravestones were a later addition to the cemeteries and now represent the most common gravestones placed for the past century.
I am in search of a particular gravestone today. It is one I have researched and documented with references from 75 years ago. It is the final resting place of a fine Irishman that left old Ireland and lived in Concord. His name was Hugh Cargill and his old gravestone is said to carry an intriguing epitaph:
“How strange, O God, who reigns on high,
That I would come so far to die,
And leave my friends where I was bred,
To lay my bones with strangers dead.
But I have hopes when I arise,
To dwell with thee in yonder skies.”
A wonderful message from Hugh Cargill, a voice in the form of his epitaph engraved on the face of his old marble gravestone. I feel his message has meaning, a touch of humor and logic. His epitaph provides me with some insight about the man that lies beneath this gravestone with his words of wisdom. Then there are other epitaphs at the Old North Cemetery that allow me to reflect in somewhat of a deeper mood. Nathaniel Abbott rests eternally at the Old North Cemetery and has been a resident there for the past 178 years. A prominent Concord family Nathaniel passed away in 1848 at the age of seventy-nine. His message in the form of his epitaph provides the following message almost two hundred years after his death:
“Dust to its kindred dust beneath,
Soul to its home on high,
They who have seen thy look in death,
May no more fear to die.”
Certainly, a heartfelt thought from Nathaniel some may find comforting.
Epitaphs provide thought provoking messages, sometimes a peaceful reflection while others are strikingly concerning. There is an interesting epitaph in New Hampshire that I have read time and again over the years. My initial thoughts are of concern for I felt the epitaph was one of disrespect for the deceased. Upon reading again, perhaps it was a humorous tone intended by the author. Regardless, this epitaph was published in the New Hampshire Gazette in 1757:
“Beneath this silent stone is laid
A noisy antiquated maid,
Who from the cradle talked till death,
And ne’er before was out of breath.
Whither she’s gone we cannot tell,
If she talks not, she’s in Hell.
If she’s in Heaven she’s there unbles’t,
Because she hates a place of rest.”
Indeed, a concerning epitaph from well over two centuries ago. I will not disclose the name relating to this strange epitaph but I do hope she found eternal peace.
The afternoon sun is setting and long shadows are now cast upon this hallowed ground. I walked with many interesting souls in this place that provides eternal rest. I walked with people that served in the American Revolution, the Civil War and beyond. I walked with men that served at Bunker Hill and Valley Forge under General George Washington. I walked with words engraved in slate, marble and granite reading about those that once were. As I walk my final steps toward the old iron gate I say their names in respect. For they are as I will someday be.