Cemetery/Burying ground/Burial ground

History

In the late eighteenth century, three primary types of burial places existed: land adjoining a church (often termed the “churchyard,” but also called a cemetery or burial ground) [Fig. 1], the family plot at one’s home (the burying ground), and public space that was unaffiliated with any specific denomination. This latter type was also denoted as a “burying ground” but most commonly was labeled as a cemetery. Initially located in central urban areas such as commons, by the nineteenth century public burial grounds were increasingly located in suburban precincts. As late as 1724 (and perhaps long after) New Englanders “valued graveyards more as meadows than as sacred spaces,” and, in the public’s mind, graveyards were regarded as “common, if not hallowed ground,” according to historian David Charles Sloane. The word “cemetery,” which “derived from the Greek word for ‘dormitory’ and implied that death was but a tranquil sleep,” reflected the increasing sentimentalization of death and the Protestant theological shift from punitive to redemptive interpretations of death. Notably, the terms “burying ground” and “churchyard” were not completely phased out with the introduction of rural cemeteries and continued to be used interchangeably. Although the term “cemetery” was often associated with rural park-like spaces, it also referred to enclosed burial grounds, such as the one described in 1796 by Timothy Dwight in New Haven, Conn.

The New Haven Burying Ground, as it was originally named, was one of the earliest burial places to be located out side the main commercial district of a town [Fi g. 2]. Concerns about public health stemming from overcrowded urban burial places, the development of romantic discourse on the emotional impact of natural scenery, and anxieties about appropriate veneration of the dead resulted in a movement to relocate burial grounds from congested urban sites to more rural settings. Observers of the New Haven Burying Ground, including Dwight , praised the proprietors for their orderly and well laid out grounds based upon a geometric plan, with each fenced lot fashioned in the shape of a parallelogram. The division of the landscape was carried over into the placement of the city’s various populations — the poor, Yale affiliates, strangers, and “negroes” — into clearly defined, separate spaces. As such, New Haven Burying Ground became a model for other cities. Nevertheless, some writers, such as Rev. Nehemiah Adams (1842), continued to argue for the use of urban plots in the belief that the dead should be permitted to commune with the “joyous events” of the city.

The archetypal nineteenth-century burial ground, however, was Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Mass., founded in 1831 on the grounds of a former estate called “Sweet Auburn.” The founders of the so-called rural cemetery originally envisioned combining an “experimental” or botanic garden with a burying ground. Given the precedent for a garden cemetery that was set by the famed Père Lachaise (founded in Paris in 1804) and the influence of English landscape gardens upon botanic garden designs of this period, it is not surprising that the planners of Mount Auburn Cemetery desired a rural, naturalistic design. They left much of the original grounds and vegetation intact and landscaped the grounds with the introduction of avenues, walks, and waterways [Figs. 3 and 4]. The boundaries of the cemetery were intended to blend into the grounds of the experimental garden through intermingled vegetation and meandering avenues. Throughout the grounds, picturesque views rewarded the visitor. Instead of the regimented landscape at the New Haven Burying Ground, Mount Auburn Cemetery embraced openness, created by the use of serpentine pathways and carefully placed vegetation, which could both screen and create vistas. The actual grave sites, however, were still bounded by iron railings to mark a zone of respect for the dead [Fig. 5].

Although the Mount Auburn Cemetery planners quickly were forced to discard their plans for an experimental garden, they fulfilled their vision of a rural, picturesque, park-like landscape. It became the model for a number of subsequent cemeteries, such as Spring Grove Cemetery (Cincinnati), Laurel Hill Cemetery (Philadelphia), and Greenwood Cemetery (Brooklyn), and it earned the praise of such critics as A. J. Downing. Even without the existence of a botanic garden, the superintendents of Mount Auburn Cemetery were able to lavish much attention on ornamental plantings. It is worth noting that extensive discussions about the ornamentation of burial places with plant material and other landscape features did not generally appear in treatise literature about the sites until the popularization of rural cemeteries in the nineteenth century.

As Downing pointed out in his 1849 essay “Public Cemeteries and Public Gardens,” Mount Auburn Cemetery also had “the double wealth of rural and moral associations . . . it awakens, at the same moment, the feeling of human sympathy and the love of natural beauty.” The rural setting, with its suggestions of the sublime, enhanced the experience of mourning for one’s loved ones. The space was also an educational tool, providing exemplary taste in planting arrangements, as well as a guide to American history through the monuments to “illustrious men,” as described by H.A.S. Dearborn (1832).

Burial monuments found on the grounds contributed to the emotional impact of Mount Auburn Cemetery’s “romantic” and “picturesque” scenery. Obelisks and other ancient style markers, for example, gave rise to associations with classical heroes (see Column). The entrance gates, executed in the Egyptian style, were associated with the notion that “eternity was evoked by the massive forms.” Such grand gateways were also found at the New Haven Burying Ground.

By the time Downing wrote his 1849 essay about public cemeteries and gardens, Greenwood Cemetery, Mount Auburn Cemetery, and Laurel Hill Cemetery had established a norm in cemetery design that influenced later designs [Figs. 6 and 7]. Although burial grounds did not require natural scenery to be effective places for “solemn meditation,” in Downing’s words, rural cemeteries fulfilled a vital niche in American life. They created rural pleasure grounds where Americans could witness the beauty of nature enhanced by art. In the absence of public gardens or parks, cemeteries were the next best thing—educating “the popular taste in rural embellishment.”

-- Anne L. Helmreich

Texts

Usage

Oldmixon, John, 1741, describing Charleston,

S.C. (quoted in Lounsbury 1994: 67) “[An act established that Charleston was to] be a distinct Parish, by the Name of St. Philip’s in Charles-Town: And the Church and Cemetery of this Town were enacted to be the Parish Church and Church-yard of St. Philip’s in Charles-Town.”

Anonymous, 1 7 8 9 , describing in the Christ Church Parish Book plans for expanding the public cemetery in Savannah, Ga. (quoted in Lounsbury 1994: 67)

“[Plans have been made] for enlarging the present Cemetery or Public Burial Ground.”

Dwight, Timothy, 1796, describing the New Haven Burying Ground, New Haven, Conn. (1821: 1:190–92)

“Indubitable proofs of the enterprise of the inhabitants are seen in the Institutions already mentioned. . . . Of these, levelling and enclosing the green, accomplished by subscription, at an expense of more than two thousand dollars, and the establishment of a new public cemetery, accomplished at a much greater expense, are particularly creditable to their spirit.

“The original settlers of New-Haven, following the custom of their native country, buried their dead in a Church-yard. Their Church was erected on the green, or public square; and the yard laid out immediately behind it in the North-Western half of the square. . . . It is always desirable, that a burial-ground should be a solemn object to man; because in this manner it easily becomes a source of useful instruction and desirable impressions. But, when placed in the centre of a town, and in the current of daily intercourse, it is rendered too familiar to the eye to have any beneficial effect on the heart. From its proper, venerable character, it is degraded into a mere common object; and speedily loses all its connection with the invisible world, in a gross and vulgar union with the ordinary business of life.

“Besides these disadvantages, this ground was filled with coffins, and monuments, and must either be extended farther over the beautiful tract, unhappily chosen for it, or must have its place supplied by a substitute. To accomplish these purposes, and to effectuate a removal of the numerous monuments of the dead, already erected, whenever the consent of their survivors could be obtained; the Honourable James Hillhouse, one of the inhabitants, to whom the town, the State, and the country, owe more than to almost any of their citizens, in the year 1796, purchased, near the North-Western corner of the original town, a field of ten acres; which, aided by several respectable Gentlemen, he levelled, and enclosed. The field was then divided into parallelograms, handsomely railed, and separated by alleys of sufficient breadth to permit carriages to pass each other. . . . Each parallelogram is sixty-four feet in breadth, and thirty-five feet in length. Each family burying- ground is thirty-two feet in length and eighteen in breadth: and against each an opening is made to admit a funeral procession. At the divisions between the lots trees are set out in the alleys: and the name of each proprietor is marked on the railing. The monuments in this ground are almost universally of marble; in a few instances from Italy; in the rest, found in this and neighbouring States. A considerable number are obelisks; others are tables; and others, slabs, placed at the head and foot of the grave. The obelisks are placed, universally, on the middle line of the lots; and thus stand in a line, successively, through the parallelograms. The top of each post, and the railing, are painted white; the remainder of the post, black. . . . “It is believed, that this cemetery is altogether a singularity in the world. I have accompanied many Americans, and many Foreigners, into it; not one of whom had ever seen, or heard, of any thing [sic], of a similar nature. It is incomparably more solemn and impressive than any spot, of the same kind, within my knowledge; and, if I am to credit the declarations of others, within theirs. An exquisite taste for propriety is discovered, in every thing belonging to it; exhibiting a regard for the dead, reverential, but not ostentatious, and happily fitted to influence the views, and feelings of succeeding generations.”

Weld, Isaac, 1799, describing Norfolk County, Va. (pp. 101–2)

“A custom prevails in Norfolk, of private individuals holding grave yards, which are looked upon as a very lucrative kind of property, the owners receiving considerable fees annually for giving permission to people to bury their dead in them. It is very common also to see, in the large plantations in Virginia, and not far from the dwelling house, cemeteries walled in, where the people of the family are all buried. These cemeteries are generally built adjoining the garden.”

Dwight, Timothy, 1799, describing Stockbridge, Mass. (1822: 3:408)

“On our way to Stockbridge we went to the Indian monument, mentioned in a former part of these letters; and, to our great regret, found it broken up in the same manner, as that at New- Milford.

“I ought, in my account of that, to have added, that this mode of erecting monuments was adopted only on peculiar occasions. The common manner of Indian burial had nothing in it of this nature. The remains of the dead, who died at home, were lodged in a common cemetery, belonging to the village, in which they had lived.”

Lambert, John, 1816, describing New York, N.Y. (1816: 2:88)

“The church-yards and vaults are also situate [sic] in the heart of the town, and crowded with the dead. If they are not prejudicial to the health of the people, they are at least very unsightly exhibitions. One would think there was a scarcity of land in America, by seeing such large pieces of ground in one of the finest streets of New York occupied by the dead. But even if no noxious effluvia were to arise (and I rather suspect there must in the months of July, August, and September), still the continual view of such a crowd of white and brown tomb-stones and monuments which is exhibited in the Broadway, must at the sickly season of the year tend very much to depress the spirits, when they should rather be cheered and enlivened, for at that period much is effected by the force of imagination. There is a large burying-ground a short distance out of town; but the cemeteries in the city are still used in certain periods of the year.”

Lambert, John, 1816, describing Savannah, Ga.

(2:267) “A large burying-ground is judiciously situated out of town, upon the common. It is inclosed by a brick wall, and contains several monuments and tomb-stones, which are shaded by willows and pride of India; and have a very pretty effect. This cemetery, though now a considerable distance from the town, will, in time, most probably, be surrounded by the dwellings of the inhabitants, like those of New York and Charleston.”

Anonymous, 1823, describing in the St. Philips Parish Vestry Book a burial request made to the St. Philips Parish, Charleston, S.C. (quoted in Lounsbury 1994: 67)

“[At a meeting of the vestry] a letter from E. S. Garden & B. Bamfield (persons of Colour) were presented . . . wishing to know whether the Vestry would permit their remains to be interred in the Cemetery of the Church at some future day.”

Fessenden, Thomas Green, 25 January 1823,

“National Burying Ground” (New England Farmer

1: 206) “This cemetery is in a remote and lonely situation, being something more than a mile in a southeasterly direction from the Capitol. It lies immediately upon the bank of East Branch, at the distance of only a few yards from the water’s edge, but elevated considerably above it, and commanding an extensive view of the river. The winding path leading to it is over a wide and barren com- mon—there are no houses in the vicinity—and it will be long before it will be in the midst of the city. Had the churchyards of New-York been laid out with the same precaution, they would not now have formed a subject of legislation for the Common Council, nor for newspaper discussion. This grave-yard contains an area of two or three acres, enclosed by a plain wooden fence, and sprinkled with copses of native cedar, stinted in their growth and many of them withered, either from the poverty of the soil, or from having their roots broken by the spade of the grave-digger. There are however, enough living to conceal many of the graves; and their verdure, contrasted with the grey tomb stones produces an agreeable effect.”

Anonymous, 29 September 1825, describing in the St. Philip’s Parish Vestry Book meeting resolutions made in Charleston, S.C. (Colonial Williamsburg Foundation; hereafter CWF)

“That social feeling & sense of propriety which induce the Vestry to keep their Cemetery neat & private, require them also to consult appearances, even in such solemn matters as the burial of Memorials of the dead, for the inscriptions perish long before the wood itself & then unseemly Appearances is a sufficient reason for excluding them. . . .

“The practice of appropriating certain portions of the Church yard as Family burial grounds, by means of Vaults and palings, seems to be of very ancient date & probably was almost