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 AND CHRIST GHURCHYARD 
 
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FENIMORE COOPER'S GRAVE 
 AND CHRIST CHURCHYARD 
 
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FENIMORE COOPER'S GRAVE 
 AND CHRIST CHURCHYARD 
 
 BY 
 
 RALPH BIRDSALL 
 
 Rector of Christ Church, Cooperstown 
 
 Illustrated from photographs 
 
 by A. J. Telfer, J. B. Slote, and 
 
 W. H. Yates, of Couperstoivn 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FREDERICK H. HITCHCOCK 
 
 MCMXI 
 
Copyright, 1911 
 By Ralph Birdsall 
 
 ^CI.A2S9/97 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 
 Fenimore Cooper's Tomb 7 
 
 At Cooper's Grave 11 
 
 The Founder of Cooperstown 15 
 
 The Tomb of Father Nash 23 
 
 The Story of the Cliurchyard 29 
 
 Orientated Graves 37 
 
 A FroHcsome Epitaph 40 
 
 Churchyard Miscelhmea 43 
 
 A Churchyard Funeral 60 
 
 The Church 64 
 
Fenimore Cooper's Tomb 
 
 No other famous tomb is quite like Cooper's 
 ^rave in the quahty of surprise which it excites in 
 
 Photo by Telfer 
 
 " The path well worn by the feet of pilgrims " 
 
 every visitor. The stranger, entering the gate of 
 Christ churchyard in Cooperstown, looks about him 
 for some conspicuous signal of Cooper's sepulchre. 
 
8 
 
 Fenimore Cooper s Tomb 
 
 He anticipates some boastful monument, commen- 
 surate with the author's fame, standing high 
 above all else, flaunting its claim for homage. 
 But this he seeks in vain. An obelisk standing 
 on the margin of the driveway commemorates 
 a more homely celebrity, the pioneer priest of 
 
 *A marble that bears upon its surface no 
 tribute to fame " 
 
 Otsego forests. Toppling gravestones everywhere 
 are inscribed with unknown and long-forgotten 
 names. 
 
 But when the stranger chances upon the path 
 well worn by the feet of pilgrims, and stands 
 at Cooper's grave, he divines that the expectation 
 is rightly disappointed. It is far more impressive 
 
Fenimore Cooper s Tomb 9' 
 
 and affecting to find it so. It is not the simple 
 tomb which is at fault, but the expectancy' of its 
 being otherwise. No proudly glittering monument 
 marks the grave of Cooper, but a plain, recumbent 
 slab of stone. It is a marble that bears upon its 
 surface no tribute to the fame or virtues of the 
 dead; only his name, with the dates of birth 
 and death. No insignia of the author's craft 
 are carved thereon, nor Indian emblems sugges- 
 tive of his famous tales; only a small and simple 
 cross, the symbol of the faith in which he lived 
 and died and found assurance of immortality. 
 It is a grave that claims for its charge no higher 
 place than any among the dead. He does not 
 eclipse the soldier, lying near, who died for his 
 country upon the field of war. The tomb of 
 the aged slave, beneath the same sod asleep, is not 
 less notable. Old neighbors who exchanged the 
 friendly nod with him in life are not less honored 
 now. Hands lie still beneath the sward that 
 gripped the axe in mighty strokes of pioneering 
 enterprise. So rests, in like obscurity, the hand 
 that with a pen blazed trails in a new continent 
 of romance. 
 
At Cooper's Grave 
 
 Poem written for the Cooperstown Centennial by the Rev. Walton W. 
 Battershall. D. D.. rector of St. Peter's church, Albany, and read by the 
 author at the tomb of the novelist. 
 
 Around the marl)le, sculptured with the name 
 That gave long echoes from the mantled hills, 
 AYhich frame the glittering mirror of the lake, 
 Throng presences of olden time and type. 
 Plastic with life, shot through with mortal blood, 
 Living for evermore in that vast hall 
 Of Imagery, beyond the touch of death. 
 
 Above the grave of Cooper, stalwart soul 
 
 And clean, that fought his fight with trenchant blade 
 
 For faith and ruth, and died, marked with the Cross, 
 
 No fairy footfalls twinkle in the grass. 
 
 As in the great magician's Summer Night 
 
 Of impish frolic and bewitched sleep: 
 
 The creatures of his brain that haunt the spot, 
 
 And hail the wizard of the tangled wood 
 
 And fretted wave, were men, carved in the flesh. 
 
 Borne on, or underneath, the wheel of life. 
 
 With love or guile or dedicated vow 
 
 Sweeping their spirits like a harper's hand. 
 
12 Fenimore Coopers Grave 
 
 Of those who told the stories of the world. 
 There are, who pushed their caravels across 
 Forgotten or uncharted seas of time, 
 Discovering new continents of thought 
 And phantasy. Of such art thou, the seer 
 And recreator of the vanished life 
 Of the primeval forest of the West, 
 Where, in the brooding silence and the shades 
 Pierced by uncertain glimmers, thou didst see. 
 Or seem to see with visionary eye, 
 Ulysses in high council with the chiefs. 
 Or Hector flying from Achilles' spear. 
 
 The world thou didst discover is thine own: 
 No footprints didst thou find except thine own. 
 And theirs, whose stealthy feet and dusky forms 
 Move in thy epic story, like that throng, 
 Impassionate, wrought on the Grecian urn. 
 Of which the poet caught the immortal rhythm. 
 
 What chance, or trick of brain, or subtle law 
 
 That links things by their contrast, brings the grave 
 
 Of him with dreamful eyes, whose name is writ 
 
 In the warm marble of his chiseled verse, 
 
 And not in water, as he dying, moaned, 
 
 Beside the grave of him, who put his own 
 
 Unquenched fire in virile shapes of life. 
 
 Peopling the wilderness, and who now lies 
 
 In the sun's laughter rippling o'er the lake.^ 
 
Fenimore Cooper s Grave 13 
 
 The old world and the new! The same old play 
 Of manhood, greed and stress of circumstance, 
 Whatever the setting and the pageantry! 
 He gave new accents to the ancient tale. 
 And deftly wrought the assemblage and the march, 
 And staged the drama, of creative days. 
 In which the Empire of the West had birth, 
 And men, shai:)ed in the clash of wild frontiers. 
 Whose moulds are broken, fought for a continent. 
 
 Fair Glimmerglass! he hath enchanted thee, 
 
 And filled with dreams thy sleep amid the hills. 
 
 The footprints of that fateful fight are on 
 
 Thy marge and, in the moonlight silvering 
 
 Thy face, glide spectral shapes. The Muskrat's ark 
 
 Creeps in the faint breath of the silent night. 
 
 Big Serpent, son of Uncas, holds his tryst 
 
 Sharp at the appointed sunset on the rock 
 
 Hard by the serpent river's leafy source. 
 
 And Hist, the Honeysuckle of the Hills, 
 
 Hears in the Huron camp his squirrel-note. 
 
 Still, in the twilight of soft summer eves, 
 
 Sweet hymns and orisons float on the air 
 
 From the canoe of Hetty, as she prays 
 
 Over her mother's grave beneath the lake. 
 
 And now, as in those storied days, Judith, 
 
 The Splendid, queens it in her tragedy, 
 
 W^ith warm, brave eyes, facing the Nemesis 
 
 Of her inheritance and fatal dower. 
 
 As the night deepens and the stars burn clear 
 
14 Fenimore Cooper's Grave 
 
 Like beacon -fires, we catch the ciuiet voice 
 Of Deerslayer, him of the straight tongue, white 
 In thought and deed, the moccasined Parsifal, 
 Making his argument for tortured death 
 To keep the word he pledged the torturers. 
 
 Here, in the mystic beauty of the lake. 
 
 To which he gave life's pathos and its might. 
 
 Which crept into his youth and haunted him 
 
 Across the seas, nor played him false, but breathed. 
 
 When he brought back to it his crowned life. 
 
 Its gracious balm on his unbroken force. 
 
 He sleeps, in shadow of the shrine, in which 
 
 He read the riddle of that mystic sleep. 
 
The Founder of Cooperstown 
 
 CooPERSTOAVN received its name not, as the 
 casual visitor might suppose, in honor of the 
 novehst, but from his father. Judge Wilham 
 Cooper, who was the founder of the village. 
 The close of the Revolutionary War opened the 
 western frontier of New York to peaceful settle- 
 ment, and offered an inviting field of enterprise 
 to such a man as William Cooper, whose life in 
 the quiet town of Burlington, New Jersey, was 
 fraught with dreams of adventure and speculation 
 in the conquest of the wilderness. 
 
 In 1785, through conveyance from the sheriff 
 of Montgomery county. Cooper acquired, in the 
 region of Otsego lake, at a cost of about fifty 
 cents an acre, some 30,000 acres of land, originally 
 part of a patent issued by the colonial govern- 
 ment. On horseback, and alone, he rode through 
 dense forests to the source of the Susquehanna, 
 and carefully explored the region of his purchase. 
 "I visited the rough and hilly country of Otsego," 
 he afterward wrote to a friend, "where there 
 existed not an inhabitant, nor any trace of a road; 
 
16 The Founder of Cooperstoum 
 
 I was alone, three hundred miles from home, 
 without bread, meat, or food of any kind; fire 
 and fishing tackle were my onh^ means of sub- 
 sistence. I caught trout in the brook and roasted 
 them on the ashes. My horse fed on the grass 
 that grew on the edge of the waters. I laid me 
 down to sleep in my watch coat, nothing but 
 the melancholy wilderness around me. In this 
 way I explored the country, formed my plans 
 for future settlement, and meditated upon the 
 spot where a place of trade or a village should 
 afterwards be established." 
 
 Cooper was so impressed with the possibilities 
 of the Otsego district that he extended his posses- 
 sions in the adjacent patents, and began to set 
 forward his plans for colonization. He induced 
 settlers to follow him, and in 1786 forty thousand 
 acres of land which he offered for sale were taken 
 up within sixteen days. No other settlement 
 undertaken after the Revolution met with such 
 immediate success. Cooper had a genius for 
 this sort of enterprise, and a capacity for leader- 
 ship that made him all but king of his new world 
 He knew how to satisfy the needs of poor settlers. 
 He found means to protect them in days of 
 famine, and contributed from his private purse 
 to the common welfare. He opened a store of 
 supplies, and gave credit to the settlers. He 
 
The Founder of Cooper.sfown 17 
 
 marketed for them their first commercial pro- 
 ducts. He knew the crops that were best adapted 
 to the soil and climate. He led and instructed 
 the settlers in the art of building roads and 
 bridges. He laid out a plan of the future village, 
 and the streets of the present village follow lines 
 which he then set down. 
 
 Superior to the colonists in intelligence and 
 education, Cooper yet possessed qualities of what 
 might be called sportmanship that won both 
 the loyalty and affection of the sturdy' pioneers. 
 This trait is illustrated by a characteristic story 
 that Cooper once offered one hundred and fifty 
 acres of land to any man on the patent who could 
 throw him in a w^restling match. Tradition 
 says that one contestant was finally successful, 
 and the land was duly conveyed to the victor. 
 
 Some idea of the commanding position which 
 Judge Cooper occupied in the village which he 
 founded may be gained from Fenimore Cooper's 
 novel. The Pioneers, in which, while historical 
 accuracy of incident or character is disclaimed. 
 Judge Temple is easily identified as a kind of 
 idealized Judge Cooper. 
 
 Encouraged by his success in Otsego, Cooper 
 became a speculator in land, on a large scale, 
 throughout Western New York. He established 
 permanent settlements where others had failed. 
 
18 The Founder of Cooperstoivn 
 
 and, in the process, built up a fortune. In his 
 later years he wrote: "I have settled more acres 
 than any man in America. There are forty 
 thousand souls now holding, directly or indi- 
 rectly under me, and I trust that no one amongst 
 so many can justly impute to me any act resem- 
 bling oppression. I am now descending into 
 the vale of life, and I must acknowledge that 
 I look back with self-complacency upon what I 
 have done, and am proud of having been an 
 instrument in reclaiming such large and fruitful 
 tracts from the waste of the creation." 
 
 Cooper possessed remarkable insight concern- 
 ing the potential energies of newly settled regions, 
 and with a large vision of the future foresaw^ 
 and advocated the construction of the Erie 
 Canal. His ability and versatility attracted 
 men of parts to visit him, and his home in Coopers- 
 town became a famous center of hospitality. 
 Well known men of the times w^ere frequently 
 his guests. Exiled foreigners sipped Madeira at 
 his table. Talleyrand once was entertained by 
 him and indited verses to his eldest daughter. 
 
 Cooper had the accomplishments of the English 
 countrj^ gentleman and himself composed verses 
 in the conventional manner of the times. A 
 specimen of these appears on the tomb of the 
 daughter celebrated by Talleyrand. Her grave 
 
The Founder of Coopersfown 19 
 
 lies between the tomb of her father and the 
 stone that commemorates Colonel Richard Cary, 
 one of Washington's aides. She was killed by 
 a fall from a horse, in 1800, in the twenty-third 
 year of her age. Her brother, Fenimore Cooper, 
 afterward wrote of her that she was "perhaps 
 as extensively and favorably known in the middle 
 states as any female of her years." The wooded 
 eminence which rises at the west of the village 
 is named in her honor, ''Hannah's Hill." 
 These are the verses which her father composed 
 and caused to be carved upon her tomb, without 
 inscribing, singularly enough, her name, which 
 was not added until many years afterw^ard: 
 
 Adieu! thou Gentle, Piou.s, Spotlefs Fair, 
 
 Thou more than Daughter of my fondest care; 
 
 Farewell! farewell!! till happier ages roll. 
 
 And waft me Purer, to thy kindred Soul. 
 
 Oft fhall the Orphan, and the Widow'd poor 
 
 Thy houniy fed, this lonely fpot explore; 
 
 Here to relate, thy .seeming haplefs doom, 
 
 (More than the Sole)n)i Record of the lomb. 
 
 By tender love infpired, can e'er portray, 
 
 (Sor fculptur'd Marble, nor the Plaintive lay. 
 
 Proclaim thy Virtues thro' the vale of time) 
 
 And bathe with grateful tears, thy hallow'd Shrine. 
 
 In the political life of the times William Cooper's 
 capacity for leadership naturally gave him an 
 
20 
 
 The Founder of Cooversioirn 
 
 important place. He became the first judge 
 of Otsego county, and served two terms in Con- 
 gress. Politics, amid the unsettled conditions 
 of the frontier, offered a field of effort as adven- 
 turous as the work of taming the wilderness. 
 
 Photo liy Telfer 
 
 " Here lies the foremost pioneer" ■ 
 
 In December, 1809, while leaving a political 
 meeting in Albany, after a session abounding in 
 stormy debate, Judge Cooper was struck on the 
 head with a walking stick by a political opponent 
 and died as a result of the blow. 
 
 Recalling the storj' of his career, one is disposed 
 to claim for Judge Cooper's dignified sarcophagus 
 
The Founder of Cooperstown 21 
 
 in Christ churchyard a share of the attention 
 bestowed upon the tomb of his more ilkistrious 
 son. For here hes the foremost pioneer of 
 Cooperstown, notable among the frontiersmen 
 of America. 
 
Plioto by Telfer 
 
 " Inscribed to the memory of Father Nash, first rector 
 of Christ Church " 
 
The Tomb of ^^ather Nash 
 
 Shaded by venerable pines and noble elms, 
 there stands in Christ churchyard a marble shaft 
 inscribed to the memory of ''Father Nash, first 
 rector of Christ's church" and "Mrs. Olive, 
 wife of Father Nash," whose bodies lie beneath 
 the sod awaiting the day of resurrection. Among 
 some three hundred tombstones arrayed upon 
 the greensward, vainly struggling, with the 
 decrepitude of age, to hold themselves erect 
 and to keep alignment in their ranks, the mon- 
 ument of Father Nash, as one enters the drive- 
 way gate, most commandingly appears, and 
 reveals him to the fancy as captain of the army 
 of the dead. From the church nearby, of which 
 the dead form the silent guard, the congregation 
 strolling homeward passes by this tomb, and the 
 visitor who pauses to read its inscription may 
 look back through the open door-way into the 
 sanctuary where Father Nash in lifetime led 
 in prayer and praise, and preached the Word, and 
 broke the Bread of Life. It is this relationship 
 of his to supernal truths that compels assent to 
 
'Ojj 
 
 ■i H 
 
The Tomb of Father Nash 25 
 
 what the monument seems to assert in according 
 to Father Nash, within this consecrated ground, 
 a certain supremacy which the standards of the 
 world would perhaps deny. In this view, a 
 striking contribution to the harmonies is found 
 in the admirable restraint expressed in the 
 simplicity of the world-famous tomb within the 
 same enclosure. While Fenimore Cooper's grave 
 is. sought each summer by a thousand pilgrims 
 who never heard of Daniel Nash, yet the novelist 
 is here commemorated only as a humble Christian 
 and parishioner of the church near which his 
 body lies, and the monument of the founder 
 of American romance is thus distinctly subor- 
 dinate to that of the lowly priest of Otsego forests. 
 This grave of Father Nash reveals a vein of 
 poetry in a nature otherwise absorbed in the 
 drudgery of frontier life. For it is by his own 
 choice that the missionary pioneer is buried 
 here. The very spot beneath the pines was of 
 his choosing. That he should care whether after 
 death his cold limbs be laid at rest here or yonder 
 marks him for a man of sentiment. In him was no 
 pride of common sense demanding what it matters 
 to a corpse whether burial be here or there. He 
 was a man not ashamed to profess a sentiment 
 quite barren of utility. Merely it stirred his 
 imagination to reflect that, as he lay in his narrow 
 
26 The Tomb of Father Nash 
 
 bed beneath the sod, the pines above would 
 whisper orisons to sunny skies, and with tossing 
 phones beat time to dirges through the wintry 
 night; the church bell now and again would make 
 the earth vibrant with solemn sound, and foot- 
 steps overhead of w^orshippers old and young- 
 would pass, going to and fro; while through the 
 ages, in the church nearby, Christ's Eucharist 
 would be ever offered, uniting in mystic fellow- 
 ship the quick and dead. 
 
 In the history of Western New York the Rev. 
 Daniel Nash deserves a place among the foremost 
 pioneers. Wherever the most adventurous men 
 were found pushing westward the frontier of 
 civilization, there was Father Nash, uplifting 
 the standard of the Church. Not only had he 
 courage and indomitable energy; he displayed 
 remarkable foresight in his manner of laying 
 foundations. Nearly all of the parishes in the 
 Otsego region were established by him, and most 
 of them flourish at the present time. Outside of 
 his work in Otsego, Father Nash made frequent 
 missionary journeys westward through Madison 
 and Chenango counties, southward through the 
 Broome and Delaware regions, eastward to Mont- 
 gomery, and north through Oneida and Jefferson, 
 to Ogdensburg in St. Lawrence county, one hun- 
 dred and fifty miles to the north of his Otsego home. 
 
The Tomb of Father Xash 27 
 
 Bishop Philander Chase visited Otsego county 
 in 1799 and gives a vivid impression of the more 
 tlian apostoHc simplicity of Father Nash's sur- 
 roundings. The I5ishop found the missionary 
 living in a cabin of unhewn logs, into which he 
 had recently moved and from which he was about 
 to remove to another equally poor, inhabiting 
 with his family a single room, which contained 
 all his worldly goods, and driving nails into the 
 walls to make his wardrobe. The Bishop assisted 
 the missionary in his moving, and describes- 
 how they walked the road together, carrying a 
 basket of crockery between them, and "talked 
 of the things pertaining to the Kingdom of God." 
 In his missionary journej^s. Father Nash rode 
 on horseback from place to place, often carrying 
 one of his children, and Mrs. Nash with another 
 in her arms behind him on the horse's back, 
 for she was greatly useful in the music and re- 
 sponses of the services. Mrs. Nash is described 
 by a contemporary as "an amiable lady of benig- 
 nant mind and placid manners. " 
 
 Father Nash is the original of the Rev. Mr. 
 Grant in Fenimore Cooper's novel. The Pioneers, 
 but while the author of the Leatherstocking tales 
 has well represented the genuine piety of his 
 model, he has, perhaps purposely, disguised him 
 as a rather anemic and depressing person. Father 
 
28 The Tomb of Father Nash 
 
 Nash was a man of rugged health, six feet in 
 height, full in figure, over two hundred pounds 
 in weight, of fresh and fair complexion, wearing 
 a wig of longish hair parted in the middle, and 
 dressed always, as circumstances permitted, with 
 a strict regard for neatness. 
 
 The slightest sketch of Father Nash would lack 
 symmetry without some reference to the well- 
 known story of his answer to a farmer who asked 
 him what he fed his lambs. '' Catechism, " replied 
 Father Nash, "catechism!" And behind the 
 smile that followed this homely sally the analyst 
 of character would have seen the earnest purpose 
 of his mission to the children of Otsego that was 
 one of the sublime secrets of his ministry. 
 
 "No Otsego pioneer deserves honor more," 
 says Mr. Halsey, in The Old New York Frontier, 
 "not the road builder or leveller of forests, not the 
 men who fought against Brant and the Tories. 
 To none of these, in so large a degree, can we 
 apply with such full measure of truth the sayings 
 that no man liveth unto himself, and that his 
 works do follow him." 
 
The Story of the Churchyard 
 
 I never can see a chnrchyard old, 
 
 With its mossy stones and mounds. 
 And green-trees weeping the nnforgot 
 
 That rest in its hallow'd bounds; 
 I never can see the okl churchyard. 
 
 But I breathe to God a prayer. 
 That, sleep as I may in this fevered life, 
 
 I may rest when I slumber there. 
 
 Our Mother the Church hath never a child 
 
 To honor before the rest. 
 But she singeth the same for mighty Kings, 
 
 And the veriest babe on her breast; 
 And the Bishop goes down to his narrow bed 
 
 As the ploughman's child is laid. 
 And alike she blesseth the dark brow'd serf, 
 
 And the chief in his robe arrayed. 
 
 And ever the bells in the green churchyard 
 
 Are tolling to tell you this: — 
 "Go pray in the church, while pray ye can. 
 
 That so ye may sleep in bliss." 
 
 —From Chri.sfiau Ballads, hy Bishop Coxe. 
 
 Christ chi rch, in Cooperstown, is surrounded 
 by one of the most i^icturesque country church- 
 
o 
 
 O 
 
The Sforij of the (liurchyard 81 
 
 yards in America. Not comparable in antiquity 
 to the churchyards of Europe, it has yet a quaint 
 and venerable aspect, and there are certain views 
 of it, like the vista through the cloister, that are 
 reminiscent of the Old World. 
 
 Burial grounds in connection with churches are 
 not so common in the country districts of America 
 as one might suppose. They are found only 
 about the churches of the oldest parishes. In 
 early days, when the population was thinly 
 scattered over a wide area, and settlers were 
 separated by distance and bad roads from any 
 place of public worship, small family burying 
 grounds in the fields began to be customary, and 
 cemeteries at convenient points along the highway 
 were sometimes used in common. This tendency, 
 together with a growing regard for sanitary 
 precaution, hindered the multiplication of church- 
 yard burial grounds, and brought about the 
 establishment of public cemeteries. The religious 
 sentiment, which prompted the burial of the dead 
 as near as might be to a sanctuary, gave way to 
 practical considerations, and churchyard burials 
 became infrequent. 
 
 Susan Fenimore Cooper, daughter of the 
 novelist, in her Rural Hours, published in 1851, 
 has this to say of Christ churchyard : 
 
 "The oldest tomb belonging to the good people 
 
32 The Story of the Churehyard 
 
 of this little town lies within the bounds of Christ 
 churchyard, and bears the date of 1792. It was a 
 child who died of the small-pox. Close at hand is 
 another stone l)earing a date two years later, and 
 marking the grave of the first adult who fell among 
 the little band of colonists, a young man drowned 
 while bathing in the lake — infancy and youth w^ere 
 buried before old age. At the time these graves w^ere 
 dug, the spot was in a wild condition, upon the border 
 of the forest, the wood having been only partially cut 
 away. In a few years other members of the little 
 community died, one after another, at intervals, and 
 they were also buried here, until the spot had gradually 
 taken its present character of a burying ground. 
 The rubbish was cleared away, place was made for 
 those who nuist follow, and ere many years had passed 
 the brick walls of a little church rose within the enclo- 
 sure, and were consecrated to the worship of the 
 Almighty. And thus this piece of ground was set 
 apart for its solemn purposes, while shaded by the 
 woods, and ere it had been appropriated to common 
 uses: the soil was first broken by the spade of the 
 grave-digger, and Death is the only reaper who has 
 gathered his harvest here. The spot soon lost its 
 forest character, however, for the older trees were all 
 felled; possibly some among them may have been used 
 as timber in building the little church. Happily, at the 
 time of clearing the ground, a few young bushes were 
 spared from the axe, and these, having been left to 
 grow at will, have become fine flourishing trees. The 
 
The Story of the Churchyard 33 
 
 greater number are pines, and a more fitting tree for a 
 Christian churchyard than the white j^ine of America 
 could scarcely be named. With all the gravity and 
 unchanging character of an evergreen, they have not 
 the dull gloom of the cypress or the yew; their growth 
 is noble, and more than any variety of their tribe, they 
 hold murmuring communion with the mysterious 
 winds, waving in tones of subdued melancholy over 
 the humble graves at their feet. A few maples and 
 elms appear among them, relieving their monotonous 
 character. Some of these have been planted for 
 that purpose, but the pines themselves are all the 
 spontaneous growth of the soil. Judging from their 
 size, and what we know of their history, they must 
 have sprung up from the seed about the time when the 
 first colonists arrived — contemporaries of the little 
 town whose graves they overshadow." 
 
 The oldest tomb in the churchyard, to which 
 Miss Cooper refers, stands rather inconspicuously 
 among others near the centre of the enclosure. 
 It bears this inscription: 
 
 Here lies 
 SAM'^ GRIFFIN, 
 Son of JOSEPH GRIFFIN: 
 
 Who Died Oct', 11th A.D. 1792 
 Aged 4 years and 6 months. 
 Happy Infant early bleft! 
 Here in peaceful slumber, reft; 
 Early refcu'd from the Cares 
 Which increafe with growing years 
 
riidto by IVIfer 
 
 The burial of this child fixed the site of Christ Church " 
 
The Sfory of the VhurcJiijard 35 
 
 It is of curious interest to reflect that the 
 burial of this Httle child, too feeble in years to 
 make an impress upon the community, determined, 
 in the process of time, the location of the first 
 burial ground, with all the graves, nota})le and 
 nameless, which it contains, fixed the site of 
 Christ church, and set the axis of future parochial 
 activity. 
 
 Christ churchyard is singularly fortunate in 
 the sul^dued harmony of the memorials which it 
 contains. The most obnoxious crimes against 
 art are usually found in public cemeteries. In 
 no other field is such unbridled license given to 
 the permanent expression of bad taste. Criti- 
 cism stands dumb })efore grotesque and mawkish 
 monuments to the dead, since they are eft'orts to 
 give outward form to genuine grief and love. 
 Without any artistic qualification except sincerity, 
 the mourner too often causes to be imaged in 
 everlasting marble some crude hallucination of 
 his sorrow. 
 
 In Christ churchyard, while there are some 
 monuments that one might wish otherwise, the 
 general charm of effect is not disturbed bv anv 
 individual atrocity of design. Almost the only 
 varieties of form that depart from the usual 
 headstone are found in the recumbent slab, and 
 the sarcophagus, or chest -like tomb, both of which 
 
36 The Storij of the Churchyard 
 
 have repose and dignity. The earher headstones 
 suggest forcibly that the common field-stone of 
 which they were made is much better material 
 for the purpose than the more ambitious marble 
 of a later day. It mellows into lovely tones with 
 the passing years, while the marble only soils and 
 grows dirty with age. Its surface is softer to the 
 eye than marble. It yields itself more gracefully 
 to inscription, and the lettering is more legible 
 and permanent. 
 
 A good example of this old fashioned sort of 
 tombstone is that of the first adult in the village 
 who died a natural death. It is inscribed as 
 follows : 
 
 MR. JAMES N. BARBER 
 Died of Small-Pox, January 27th, 1795. 
 Aged 46 years; 
 To whofe Memory this Stone is erected 
 By his Son David Barber. 
 
 The Soul, from Life's fuperfluous cares enlarg'd 
 Its Debt of human Toil and Pain difcharged, 
 Resigns the Body to its Native Clay, 
 And to an unknown fome where wings its way. 
 
Orientated Graves 
 
 The practice of Iniiying in churches or church- 
 yards is said to l)e connected with the custom of 
 praying for the dead; certainly it is ahnost as 
 ancient. In England, it was as early as the year 
 750, according to Lord Stowell, that "spaces of 
 ground adjoining the churches were carefully 
 enclosed and solemnly consecrated to the burial 
 of those who had been entitled to attend divine 
 service in those churches, and who now became 
 entitled to render back into those places their 
 remnants to earth, the common mother of man- 
 kind, without payment for the ground which they 
 were to occupy, or for the pious offices which 
 solemnized the act of interment." 
 
 Equally ancient must be reckoned the cus- 
 tom of burying the dead with the feet to the 
 East. Aside from the Christian tradition, 
 there has been, among many races and tribes 
 throughout the world, a remarkable consensus 
 of custom for the practice of laying the body 
 east and west, sometimes with the head to 
 the east and sometimes to the west. This custom 
 
38 Orientated Graves 
 
 is said to be due originally to solar symbolism, and 
 the head is turned to the east or to the west, 
 according as the dead are thought of in connec- 
 tion with the sunrise, the reputed home of deity, 
 or with the sunset, the reputed region of the dead. 
 
 The Christian faith, however, gave a new 
 significance to this matter. The Christian dead 
 were laid in the grave with face upward and feet 
 to the east, in token of the Resurrection at the 
 coming again of the Sun of Righteousness. The 
 custom arose from the thought that at the Second 
 Coming of Christ, in the East, the dead, as a 
 mighty army all facing one way, shall rise to 
 greet him. In Wales the east wind is still called 
 "The wind of the dead men's feet." 
 
 Christ churchyard has had regard to this tradi- 
 tion in the disposal of its graves. The dead lie 
 with their feet eastward. Yet, since the graves 
 naturally follow the parallel of the enclosure, 
 which is not exactly east and west, but conforms 
 to the general bent of the village, they fall short, 
 by a few points of the compass, of facing due east. 
 
 Among the early settlers of Cooperstown there 
 was one family not to be put off with any vague- 
 ness of orientation. It was that of Joshua Starr, 
 a potter, whom Fenimore Cooper describes as 
 "a respectable inhabitant of the village." To 
 his mind it was plain that if a proper grave should 
 
Orientated (irares 
 
 39 
 
 face east, it should face the east, and not east by 
 south. In him was the courage of conviction, 
 and no slavish deference to majorities. Accord- 
 ingl}^ the graves of the Starr family are notable 
 among the tombs of Christ churchyard in being 
 
 Photo by Telfer 
 
 " Not to be put off with any vagueness of orientation " 
 
 set with the foot due east, as by a mariner's 
 compass. The wide headstones split the plane of 
 the meridian; their edges cleave the noon-day 
 sun and the Polar star. To the casual observer 
 these three tombs, as compared with all others 
 in the churchyard, seem quite awry. In reality 
 thev alone are correct; all the rest are wrong. 
 
A Frolicsome Epitaph 
 
 Objects of mirth are not sought in graveyards. 
 Yet there is one tomb in Christ churchyard over 
 which there has been laughter more than tears. 
 It is the grave of Jenny York, a negro slave, 
 whose tombstone appears at the east end of the 
 churchyard, in the part reserved for the burial of 
 members of her race, of whom there were a number 
 in Cooperstown in early days. Among the more 
 prosperous colonists some were slaveholders, and 
 the institution was not yet regarded with general 
 disapproval. On the day before the consecration 
 of Christ church, in 1810, the following advertise- 
 ment appeared in the Otsego Herald, one of the 
 Cooperstown newspapers : 
 
 FOR SALE. 
 
 (For want of employment) 
 
 A stout healthy negro, 18 years of age. He has been 
 used to farming business. For terms inquire of this 
 office. 
 
 The same new^spaper stated, under the date of 
 October 13, 1810, that there were then twenty- 
 
Photo by Telfur 
 
 "One tomb over which there has been more laughter 
 than tears " 
 
42 A Frolicsome Epitaph 
 
 four negroes in the village, of whom twelve were 
 slaves. 
 
 Jenny York was a cook in the family of the 
 Hon. Samuel Nelson, for many years a justice of 
 the United States Supreme Court and a resident 
 of Cooperstown. Like many of her kind, Jenny 
 combined great culinary skill with a keen sense 
 of property-right in whatever passed through her 
 hands. Choice provisions and delicacies disap- 
 peared through systematic dole at the kitchen 
 door, or sometimes being reserved against a 
 holiday, re-appeared to furnish forth a banquet in 
 the servants' hall, to which Jenny's dusky friends 
 were bidden, and made the welkin ring with 
 wassail and good cheer. 
 
 The current story is that, when Jenny died, 
 the negroes of the village chose for her grave an 
 epitaph to extol, without altogether approving, 
 her left-handed generosity. The stone is inscribed 
 as follows: 
 
 JENNY YORK 
 
 Died Feb. 22, 1837. 
 
 Aet. 50 yea. 
 
 She had her faults 
 
 but 
 was kind to the poor. 
 
Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 There are two kinds of men; those who love 
 churchyards, and those who care for them not 
 at all. Both kinds visit Christ churchyard, and 
 the classification is automatic. Some glance at 
 Cooper's grave and haste away with an air of 
 duty done. The lovers of churchyards linger, 
 and stroll thoughtfully among the tombs. They 
 find a charm in the most obscure memorials of 
 the dead. They read aloud to each other the 
 quaint inscriptions. Now and again they pause 
 to copy some chiseled epitaph that strikes the 
 fancy. They kneel or lie prone upon the turf 
 before a crumbling tomb to decipher its doleful 
 couplets, thrusting aside the concealing grasses, 
 lest a word be missed. They wander at will 
 beneath the trees, and, before departing, enter 
 the old church, to rest and pray within the still- 
 ness of its fane. For such there are delights in 
 Christ churchyard that lean not at all upon famous 
 names or the pomps and vanities of history. 
 
 The tombs are rich in verse. Few of us, in 
 modern times, would dare to submit stanzas of 
 
(liu rchya rd Mi.scellan ea 45 
 
 our own composition to be inscribed in cold stone 
 everlastingly. We should be thankful that our 
 forefathers, in this matter as in much else, were 
 more courageous. We could ill spare the poetry 
 of old churchyards. 
 
 A marble that fronts the walk between the 
 church and chapel is inscribed with a verse that 
 touches upon the motive of all churchyard poetry. 
 It is dedicated by his parents to Joseph Temple, 
 an only son, who died in 1807, in the twenty-first 
 year of his age. 
 
 Go then blest shade where bliss 
 
 sincere is known 
 Go where to love and to injoy are one 
 Yet take these tears mortalities relief 
 And till I share your joys forgive my 
 
 grief 
 Of love sincere oh this last pledge 
 receive 
 x\ stone a verse is all I have to give. 
 
 « 
 
 In this view, it is not the quality of the verse, 
 but its necessity as a proper tribute to the dead 
 that justifies its existence. Poetry and stone are 
 forms of homage. 
 
 The churchyard contains, of course, a variant 
 of the couplet that is seen everywhere and always 
 in cemeteries. It appears upon a stone a few feet 
 
46 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 to the east of the Cooper enclosure, commemoratmg 
 an infant who died in 1799. 
 
 From Death's areft no age is free; 
 Prepare to die and follow me. 
 
 This is not so lugubrious as its more usual form: 
 
 As I am now, so you shall be; 
 Prepare to die and follow me. 
 
 The oldest epitaph but one in Christ churchyard 
 is that of Jabez Wight , a cabinet-maker, who was 
 drowned while bathing in the lake, July 14, 1794. 
 Of the original settlers he w\is the first adult to 
 meet death. The stone stands near the one last 
 mentioned, and bears these lines: 
 
 Death, like an overflowing ftream. 
 Sweeps us away; our life's a dream: 
 An emty tale, a morning iiower, 
 Cut down and wither'd in an hour. 
 
 Evidently this effusion was much admired, for 
 it reappears upon the tombstone of Jeremy Sumers, 
 a child who died in 18*28, and whose grave lies 
 at the corner of the Tiffany plot, which is sur- 
 rounded by a small square of iron fence just south 
 of the Cooper enclosure. 
 
 I 
 
Churchyard Miscellanea 47 
 
 The Rev. Frederick T. Tiffany, second rector 
 of Christ church, and sometime chaplain of the 
 House of Representatives, may probaV)ly })e re- 
 garded as the author of the hues which appear 
 upon the tomb of his daughter, Mary, who died 
 at the age of seventeen years. The verses deal 
 with one of the special problems of faith, touching 
 the recognition of loved ones in a future life. 
 
 And shall we eVr again thy features trace, 
 
 Beloved child! thy lineaments review.^ 
 
 Yes, though the sunken eyes and livid hue, 
 
 And lips comprest, have quenched each lively grace, — 
 
 Death's triumph — Still we recognize the face 
 
 Which thine for many a year affection knew. 
 
 And what forbids that, clothed with life anew. 
 
 It still on memory's tablet holds its place.'* 
 
 Tho' then thy cheek with deathless bloom be sheen, 
 
 And rays of splendor wreathe thy saintlike brow, 
 
 That change, we deem, shall sever not between 
 
 Thee and thy former self; nor disallow 
 
 That love's tried eyes discern thee through the skreen 
 
 Of glory then, as of corruption now. 
 
 In the third tier east of the Tiffany enclosure 
 a curious use of verse appears upon two stones, 
 whereby Captain Joseph Jones and his wife 
 Keziah, both dying in 1799, seem to converse in 
 
48 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 responsive couplets. Mrs. Jones avers majestic- 
 ally, 
 
 Within this Silent grave I ly. 
 
 to which the hero of battles quite meekly replies, 
 This fpace is all I occupy. 
 
 An epitaph that wavers uncertainly between 
 verse and prose fronts the walk between the 
 church and chapel: 
 
 Albert O how lonely 
 
 We are here without our son 
 
 And we hope again to meet thee 
 
 Around our heavenly father's 
 
 Home. 
 
 The very crudeness of some epitaphs seems to 
 emphasize their terrible sincerit}^ Here is one 
 just south of the Tiffany plot, 
 
 Mourn not since freed from 
 
 human ills, 
 My dearest friends & two 
 
 Infants still. 
 My consumptive pains God 
 
 semed well, 
 My soul to prepair with 
 
 him to dwell 
 
- r^ 
 
50 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 Northward of this tomb is a sarcophagus 
 that shows a well-laid plan in a state of imper- 
 ishable incompletion. Besides a memorial of the 
 dead, the tomb was intended to be a kind of 
 family record. The names of children and grand- 
 children were inscribed, and as they departed 
 this life their names were marked with a chiseled 
 asterisk referring to a footnote which pronounced 
 them "dead." Four deaths were so recorded; 
 then the sculptured enrollment was discontinued. 
 Written still among the living there remain four 
 names, of those who have been long dead, while 
 the name of one born since the monument was 
 erected, survivor of all the rest, was never included 
 in the memorial. 
 
 One of the five flat stones near the driveway, 
 not far from the church door, bears an epitaph 
 which, while eulogizing a wife, gives an unpre- 
 meditated characterization of its composer: 
 
 She passed through life and from life to death, without 
 the reproach of the world or her own conscience, and 
 the remembrance of her virtues is fondly cherished by 
 him to whose happiness in the endearing scenes of wed- 
 lock, they essentially^ contributed. 
 
 On the next tomb but one is engraved a fervent 
 appeal to the sympathy of the passer-by: 
 
Churchyard Miscellanea 51 
 
 Stranger hadst thou ever a wife, 
 Snatched from thee by death, 
 In the bloom of youth beauty and virtue 
 ' I If thou never hadst 
 
 Thou mightest immagine 
 ' , But cannot feel 
 
 The anguish of a disconsolate husband 
 
 Who has placed over her remains 
 This tablet as the last but too feeble testimony 
 of his tenderest affections 
 And to mark the spot where lies the best of wives 
 The most affectionate of mothers 
 And the sincerest of friends. 
 
 Northeast of this group, the tomb of Mrs. 
 Sarah Miinn, standing somewhat alone, relates 
 with a certain archaic gracefulness, that 
 
 She lean'd her head on Jesus' breast, 
 And breath'd her life out sweetly. 
 
 Near the orientated tombs of the Starrs is the 
 grave of an infant who died in 1794, and whose 
 epitaph breathes both love and trustful resignation : 
 
 Sleep on fweet babe; injoy thy reft: 
 God call'd the foon, he faw it beft. 
 
 A more severe view of the Deity appears upon 
 a gravestone six rows east of this, commemora- 
 ting James and Tamson Eaton, who died in 1846. 
 
52 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 Tamson was fifteen years of age, and despite 
 the name, was a girl, as the verse reveals: 
 
 This youth cut down in all her bloom, 
 Sent by her God to an early doom. 
 
 James, aged twenty-one years, was evidently 
 killed by lightning, and the event is thus poetized: 
 
 What voice is that? 'Tis God, 
 He speaketh from the clouds; 
 In thunder is concealed the rod 
 That smites him to the ground. 
 
 Next to this is a tomb which reflects a cheerful 
 stoicism : 
 
 Adieu my friends dry up your tears 
 Here I must lye till Christ appears. 
 
 In the second tier east is a stone bearing this 
 sentiment : 
 
 Friends nor physicians 
 could not save. 
 This mortal body from 
 
 the grave, 
 Nor can the grave con- 
 fine it here, 
 When Christ commands 
 it to appear. 
 
 The next tomb but one to the striking Carter 
 memorial cross, recumbent near the border of the 
 
Churchyard Miscellanea 53 
 
 driveway, is that of Mary Olendorf, and bears 
 these feehng hnes: 
 
 Tread softly o'er this sacred mound 
 For Mary hes beneath this ground 
 May garlands deck and myrtles rise 
 To guard the Tomb where Mary lies. 
 
 In the midst of the second row to the east a 
 brownstone of singularly beautiful hue marks 
 the grave of Sally Huntington and is inscribed 
 with an epitaph that has the ring of sincerity: 
 
 This woman was full of 
 Good works and Alms deeds 
 
 She slept in Christ and with her dying breath 
 Exulting triumphed o'er the sting of death 
 Distinct th'o feebly with her faultring tongue 
 The praises of Almighty God she sung 
 Thus lived the best of women to the end 
 The village favorite and the village friend. 
 
 South of this is a fine specimen of the older sort 
 of tombstones, dedicated to the memory of Cap- 
 tain John Howard, a tanner, and the first militia 
 captain of the village, who, in the summer of 
 1799, was drowned in an heroic effort to save a 
 man who had fallen beneath some flood wood in 
 the Susquehanna. Says the epitaph: 
 
54 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 Striving another's life to fave. 
 He funk beneathe the fwelling 
 wave. 
 
 No grave in the churchyard except Cooper's 
 receives more attention from strangers than that 
 of Scipio, an old slave, whose beautifully let- 
 tered tombstone is near that of Captain How- 
 ard. It is inscribed as follows: 
 
 In memory of Scipto, an aged slave, a native of 
 Africa who died March 27th, 1799. 
 
 Oft did he. Shivering, Call, to blefs the hand 
 That would beftow a Cordial to his wants; 
 Oft have I drop'd a tear to fee his forrow'd face 
 Caft fmiles around, 
 On thofe whofe feeling hearts 
 Had, for a Minute 
 Made him forget 
 The Hardnefs of his fate. 
 
 His venerable Beard was thin and white; 
 His hoary Head befpoke his length of Days: 
 His Piteous tales of Woe, 
 While bending o'er his Staff, 
 
 He did Relate 
 Were heard in penfive Mood, 
 By Thofe 
 Who look'd beyond his tatter'd garb. 
 And faw his Manv Sorrows. 
 
 I 
 
Photo by Telfer 
 
 " No grave, except Cooper's, receives more attention " 
 
56 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 North of this stone, after passing three inter- 
 vening tombs, one comes upon an odd inscription 
 that marks the grave of a fourteen-year-old boy 
 who was drowned December 3, 1810. 
 
 Thus were Parents bereavd 
 of a dutiful son and community 
 of a promising youth, while 
 pursuing with assiduity the 
 act of industry. 
 
 One might be curious to know what this act of 
 industry was that cost the life of young Garrett 
 Bissell, but history is silent. 
 
 "Joe Tom," a negro whose tomb fronts the east 
 end of the churchyard, was for more than a score 
 of years sexton of Christ church, and when he 
 died, in 1881, had been for half a century a unique 
 figure in the life of the village. "Joe Tom" was 
 always the general factotum at public entertain- 
 ments and had won a title as "the politest negro 
 in the world." Music of a lively sort he scraped 
 from the fiddle or beat upon the triangle. He was 
 chief usher at meetings, chief cook at picnics, a 
 stentorian prompter at dances, and chief oar at 
 lake excursions. On occasions of this latter kind 
 
C li u rcJiija rd M iscella nea 57 
 
 it was "Joe Tom's" peculiar duty, assigned to 
 him by nature in the gift of wondrous huigs, to 
 awaken the famous Echo of the GHmmerglass. 
 Stationing his scow at a point on the lake oppo- 
 site to Natty Bumppo's cave, the negro would 
 shout across the water, "Natty Bumppo! Natty 
 Bumppo! Who's there?" and after a moment the 
 cry would be flung back, as by the spirit of 
 Leatherstocking, from the heights of the steep 
 and rocky shore. On a still summer evening 
 "Joe Tom" was sometimes able, by a single shout^ 
 to call forth three distinct echoes which were heard 
 in regular succession, the first from the cave, the 
 second from Mount Vision, and the third from 
 Hannah's hill on the opposite side of the lake, 
 until the margin of the Glimmerglass seemed to 
 resound with cries of "Natty Bumppo!" uttered 
 by eerie voices. 
 
 On the extreme southern border of the church- 
 yard, about fifty feet from the street, there is a 
 tombstone that seems to shudder away from 
 human sight, shrinking behind the shelter of a 
 tree, and clinging to the ragged skirts of the 
 hedge. Whoever searches out this tomb cannot 
 fail to be obsessed with the feeling that it is 
 connected with some mystery, to which the 
 inscription darkly alludes: 
 
o8 Churchyard Miscellanea 
 
 In memory of 
 
 Abraham Spafard. 
 
 Who died at 8 o, 
 
 clock P. M. 3d. Sep* 1827. 
 
 in the 49 ' year of 
 
 his age 
 
 The trump shall sound, 
 
 and the dead shall 
 
 be raised. 
 
 Why eight o'clock? What is the significance 
 of this concern to perpetuate the memory of the 
 exact hour of death? The truth is that at just 
 eight o'clock on the evening of September the 
 third, in the year of Our Lord 1827, Abraham 
 Spafard was brutally murdered. He was killed 
 by Levi Kelly, a farmer of the town of Otsego, a 
 man noted for his violent temper, from the effects 
 of which Spafard was attempting to shield a boy 
 when Kelly shot him dead. Kelly was executed 
 at a public hanging on a lot not far from the site 
 of the present High School, December 28, 1827. 
 Throngs of people gathered from the whole 
 countryside to witness the hanging, some bringing 
 their children to profit by the dreadful object- 
 lesson. So much was the hanging regarded as an 
 interesting and legitimate public spectacle that a 
 large temporary staging, designed to afford space 
 
 I 
 
Churchyard Miscellanea 59 
 
 for six hundred people, was erected for the 
 accommodation of spectators. Just before the 
 execution this staging became so overweighted 
 that it collapsed, killing two men, and injuring 
 upwards of a score. 
 
 Kelly's body was buried in that part of the 
 churchyard which belongs to the Cooper family. 
 No stone was ever raised to mark the place of 
 Levi Kelly's burial, and time has obliterated all 
 traces of his grave. Yet that his bones are here 
 interred is not less certain than that the body of 
 his victim lies in another quarter of the church- 
 yard, beneath the stone that names the hour of 
 crime. The murderer and the murdered sleep 
 beneath the shadow of the same sanctuary, 
 awaiting the Day of Judgment. To that Great 
 Assize the tomb of Abraham Spafard makes 
 appeal for both, in the words of a Faith that 
 promises not justice, but mercy, to us all: 
 
 The trump shall sound, 
 
 and the dead shall 
 
 be raised. 
 
A Churchyard F'uneral 
 
 Ir is seldom, in modern life, that the full beauty 
 of the Order for the Burial of the Dead is realized. 
 In the customary usage of the day the Burial 
 Office of the Book of Common Prayer must be 
 rudely disjointed by necessary adjournment, for 
 the latter part of the ritual, to some distant 
 cemetery. The service is interrupted in the 
 midst by an incongruous clatter of coaches and a 
 tedious loading up of carriages at the church door. 
 
 The Burial Office was composed at a time when 
 interments of the dead were commonly made in 
 churchyards. Throughout the ritual the cir- 
 cumstance of the churchyard is assumed. The 
 rubrical direction at the beginning of the Office 
 says, "The Minister, meeting the Corpse at the 
 entrance of the Churchyard, and going before it, 
 either into the Church or towards the Grave, 
 shall say or sing, I am the resurreciion and the life, 
 saith the Lord: he that belieiwth in me, though he 
 were dead, yet shatl he live: and whosoever liveth arid 
 believeth in me, shall never die. The order is then 
 given for that portion of the service intended to 
 
A Churchyard Funeral 61 
 
 be rendered in the church, which would inckide, 
 according to the more ancient custom, the 
 Requiem Mass; then is set forth the ritual to be 
 used at the grave. 
 
 In this Order for Burial there is a unity of design 
 that becomes manifest only when, as in olden times, 
 interment is made in the yard adjoining the church, 
 where the outdoor function appears as a natural 
 sequence to the service of the sanctuary, and is 
 connected w^ith it by an orderly processional from 
 the church to the churchyard. 
 
 Christ churchyard, in the full glory of its Summer 
 foliage, offers a superb setting for such a service, 
 and the now rare occasions of interments Avithin 
 this quaint God's acre are long remembered by 
 those who witness them. After the service in the 
 church the procession of choir and clergy, headed 
 by the crucifer, issues from the main door, followed 
 by the bearers carrying the bier upon their shoul- 
 ders. The mourners and the remainder of the 
 congregation come reverently after, and with the 
 thrilling chorus of some triumphant resurrection- 
 hymn the procession moves slowly to the grave. 
 The sunshine sifts through the foliage of the over- 
 arching trees, glitters upon the processional cross, 
 gleams upon the white robes of choristers, and 
 transforms into a mantle of glory the pall that 
 drapes the body of the dead. At the grave, the 
 
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 OJ 
 
 3 
 
 X 
 
 
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 Gj 
 
 
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 QJ 
 
 
 
 >> 
 
 
 
 O 
 
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 O 
 
 w 
 
 
 c« 
 
 3 
 
 > 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 "o 
 
 S 
 
 
 
 fcXJ 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 .'/I 
 
 1 
 
 '/I 
 
 ^ 
 
 8 
 o 
 
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A Churchyard Funeral 63 
 
 dirge-like anthem l)e(>iniiing "Man that is born of 
 a woman'' is less lngul)rioiis when well sung than 
 as commonly read, and adds a more uplifting 
 quality to this portion of the service. A solemn 
 hush falls upon the company as the priest steps 
 forward for the formal act of burial. The dust 
 flashes momentarily in the sunbeams as it falls 
 from his hand into the open grave, while the 
 rhythmic cadences of the committal float once 
 again over the consecrated ground. No words 
 in the English tongue have vibrated more deeply 
 in human hearts than the majestic and exultant 
 avowal of faith with which the Church consigns 
 to the grave the bodies of her dead: 
 
 "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God, in 
 His wise providence, to take out of this world the 
 soul of our deceased brothier, we therefore commit 
 his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, 
 dust to dust; looking for the general Resurrection in 
 the last day, and the life of the world to come, through 
 our Lord Jesus Christ; at whose second coming in 
 glorious majesty to judge the world, the earth and the 
 sea shall give up their dead; and the corruptible 
 bodies of those who sleep in Him shall be changed, and 
 made like unto His own glorious body; according to 
 the mighty working whereby He is able to sul^due all 
 things unto Himself." 
 
The Church 
 
 "On a Saturday afternoon in midsummer I 
 found myself by chance on the Southern shores 
 of Otsego Lake, looking northward on a scene 
 which for quiet and soothing beauty can hardly 
 be surpassed. Before me lay the mirror of the 
 Glimmerglass ; warm lights threw a flush upon 
 the skies; the day was going away; the omens 
 of the evening were already in the clouds; a 
 breeze, scarcely strong enough to ruffle the water, 
 came from the western hills; the woods were 
 reflected in their native colors along the silent 
 shore. But below was more than what met the 
 eye. Through and under this exterior beauty 
 voices could be heard, speaking of the mystery 
 of the natural world. * * * At such times 
 and in such places men become aware of some 
 unspeakable strangeness in their life, and, keep- 
 ing silence before mysterious and dimly indicated 
 presences, they know that it must be possible 
 to draw its hidden meaning from God's w^orld, 
 from hill and plain, from deep, still waters and 
 shadowy woods, from the currents of the evening 
 
 I 
 
The Church 
 
 65 
 
 breeze and the outstretched shadows of ebbing 
 day. 
 
 "Hard by that lake stands an old church, 
 shaded by tall pines and other trees, and keeping 
 watch and ward over the surrounding resting- 
 
 Photo by Telfer 
 
 " The omens of the evening were already in the clouds " 
 
 places of the dead in Christ. On the following 
 morning I found myself at the early celebration 
 in that venerable fane. Here another mystery 
 confronted us, like the other, too deep to search 
 out; the mystery of the Coming of our Lord in 
 Holv Communion. The church also, like the 
 
66 The Church 
 
 lake, was held in the stillness of a holy peace. 
 The voice of the priest, as he recited the office, 
 was the only sound that broke upon the ear; the 
 words of Christ were repeated; and then, to the 
 eye of faith, 'came Jesus and stood in the midst, 
 and said. Peace be unto 3^ou.' " 
 
 These words referring to Otsego Lake and 
 Christ church form the introductory paragraphs 
 of "The Sacramental System," by the Rev. 
 Morgan Dix, D. D., sometime rector of Trinity 
 church, New^ York, who passed his boyhood in 
 Cooperstown. The musings to which he gives 
 utterance express, with poetic insight, the deeper 
 feelings awakened in many a soul by this village 
 church and the charm of its natural surroundings. 
 What the lover of nature feels stirring within 
 him as he penetrates the heart of the mysterious 
 forest, this and more the lover of the Church is 
 aware of when he enters a Christian sanctuary 
 and kneels before an altar that mystically unites 
 the history of Man and God. He who loves both 
 Nature and the Church finds ever new delights 
 on either hand, for each imparts continually fresh 
 significance to the other, as being revelations, 
 in difterent spheres, of the same Eternal Energy. 
 
 Christ church was consecrated on July 8, 1810, 
 by Bishop Benjamin Moore. The identical build- 
 ing is still standing, most of the changes having 
 
The Church 67 
 
 taken the form of additions to the original struc- 
 tin"e. While the spire is of later date, the tower 
 that it surmounts has remained unchanged from 
 the first, with the exception of the buttresses, 
 which both here and elsewhere on the exterior 
 of the church were of more recent construction. 
 The nave, exclusive of the present transept and 
 chancel, constituted the original church. Tall 
 white columns within the nave supported the roof 
 until 1840, when the heavy brackets of native oak 
 were constructed to sustain it, and a Gothic style 
 began to be affected in the renewal of interior 
 woodwork and a reshaping of the windows. The 
 changes may be best understood by reference to 
 the model of the original church which stands in 
 the vestry room. This model was constructed 
 by Mr. G. Pomeroy Keese, who died in the cen- 
 tennial year of the parish, and having been w^arden 
 for some years and vestryman for more than 
 half a century was better informed than anyone 
 else concerning the first one hundred years of the 
 church's life; nor had the church and churchyard 
 ever a more devoted lover. 
 
 The transept was constructed in 186-1-, and the 
 present chancel was added in 1891 as a memorial 
 of Mrs. Jane R. A. Carter. The interior of the 
 church is rich in memorials of those who have 
 worshipped within its walls. The Altar, with 
 
The Church 69 
 
 reredos, of Caen stone, was erected in 1910 in 
 memory of the Rev. Philip A. H. Brown, late 
 vicar of S. John's chapel, Varick Street, New York, 
 and formerly rector in Cooperstown, where he 
 was greatly beloved. 
 
 The font, the earliest memorial placed in the 
 church, commemorates ^Ir. Theodore Keese, war- 
 den of the parish, who died in 1858. Superimposed 
 upon the font and embedded in such wise that it 
 holds the water used in Holy Baptism, is the 
 original baptismal bow^l that w-as used in the 
 church by the first rector. The bowl was given 
 to the church by the Hon. Elijah H. Metcalf, a 
 member of the original vestry, and after being 
 discarded for half a century, during which it was 
 put to various uses, the relic was restored to the 
 church by Mrs. Sophia E. Blodgett, granddaughter 
 of the donor. 
 
 The organ, erected in 1909, is a memorial of 
 the Rt. Rev. Henry C. Potter, D. D., seventh 
 bishop of New York, who, during the summers 
 of his latter years, regularly attended the services 
 of Christ church. His last public appearance 
 was in Christ church, when, not five weeks before 
 his death, he read the prayers at the funeral of a 
 youth. The personal dignity of the Bishop, his 
 commanding presence, a certain picturesque mag- 
 nificence, the strength of his countenance, the 
 
70 The Church 
 
 incisiveness in his manner of speech, were char- 
 acteristics that marked him as a leader of men, and 
 dominated the many pubhc assembhes of which 
 he was remembered as the central figure. Coopers- 
 town associates such a memory of him with a 
 scene rich in kaleidoscopic color and historic 
 significance, when, on a Sunday afternoon dur- 
 ing the village centennial celebration, multitudes 
 listened beneath the sunlit trees upon the green, 
 while the Bishop, mantled in an academic gown 
 of crimson, described his vision of the future of 
 religion in America. The Bishop did not live to 
 see the fulfilment of his prophecies, but died, 
 within a year, in this peaceful village, which always 
 touched him with its charm, and where, after all 
 that the wider world accorded him, he was most 
 intimately known and sincerely loved. 
 
 The Litany desk of carved oak commemorates 
 Francis Upton Johnstone, M. D., who became 
 a vestryman in 1871. 
 
 On the right-hand side of the nave, as one 
 enters the church, the middle window is a memorial 
 of ^liss b-'usan Fenimore Cooper, who died in 1894. 
 A daughter of the novelist, INIiss Cooper's memory 
 is revered in Cooperstown for qualities all her own. 
 She gained rather more than local fame, in her 
 time, as a graceful writer, and was distinguished 
 for her knowledge of the birds and flowers of 
 
The Church 71 
 
 Otsego hills. The memorial window, with its 
 figure of Charity distributing alms to children, 
 sets forth the aspect of her character which 
 won for Miss Cooper the grateful regard of 
 posterity. Her life-work was the establishment in 
 Cooperstown of the Orphan House of the Holy 
 Saviour, where, since 1870, homeless and destitute 
 children from far and near, many of them rescued 
 from unspeakably evil influences, have received 
 Christian care and nurture. Nor shall it be for- 
 gotten that, while others gave more largely of 
 funds, the Thanksgiving Hospital, one of the 
 most useful village institutions, founded in grati- 
 tude for the close of the Civil War, originated in 
 Miss Cooper's heart and mind. The memorial 
 window idealizes in form and color the spirit of 
 this noble woman, without attempting portraiture. 
 A real likeness of Miss Cooper, as she appeared in 
 her ripest years, would recall a sweet face framed 
 in dangling curls, a manner somewhat prim but 
 always gentle and placid, a figure slight and spare, 
 with a bonnet and Paisley shawl that are all but 
 essential to the resemblance. She would be l)est 
 represented in the midst of orphan children whom 
 she catechises for the benefit of some visiting 
 dignitary, while the little rascals, taking advantage 
 of her growing deafness, titter forth the most pal- 
 pable absurdities in reply, sure of her benignant 
 
\ 
 
 72 The Church 
 
 smile and commendatory "Very good; very good, 
 indeed!" 
 
 The screens of native oak in the two archways 
 that open into the church on either side of the 
 chancel have an interesting history. They were 
 reconstructed in 1910 from a screen erected in 
 1840, in what Avas then the chancel, by Mr. James 
 Fenimore Cooper, the novelist. This screen, and 
 the changes in the interior of the church already 
 mentioned as belonging to the period, are referred 
 to in a letter dated "Hall, Cooperstown, April 
 22nd, 1840" and addressed by Mr Cooper to 
 Harmanus Bleecker, Esq.: 
 
 I have just been revolutionizing Christ church, 
 Cooperstown, * * * converting its pine interior into 
 oak — bona fide oak, and erecting a screen that I trust, 
 though it may have no influence on my soul, will 
 carry my name down to posterity. It is really a 
 pretty thing — pure Gothic, and is the wonder of the 
 country round. 
 
 This screen remained in the church, with some 
 alterations, until 1891. 
 
 For the present purpose the screen was divided, 
 the panels were cut out, allowing a vista through 
 the tracery, and the design was skillfully adjusted 
 to the necessities. Of the tw^o screens thus 
 resulting from reconstruction the one on the 
 
The Church 73 
 
 organ side is the least altered in design and 
 material from the original, and is a memorial of 
 Judge William Cooper, the founder of Cooperstown. 
 The other was erected in memory of Mr. Paul 
 Fen i more Cooper. 
 
 Passing through the gates of this screen one 
 finds in the Vestry room some historic memorials 
 of the church. Besides the model of the original 
 edifice, there are portraits of the Bishops of 
 Albany, and of all the Bishops of New York who 
 had jurisdiction in the parish before the erection 
 of this Diocese, together with portraits of all 
 rectors of Christ church, up to the present time. 
 The most valuable portrait is an old oil painting 
 of Father Nash, first rector of the parish. 
 
 Many inquiries are made by visitors concerning 
 the location of P'enimore Cooper's pew. The 
 identical pew is no longer in existence, but, in the 
 transept, the side pew which is now nearest to 
 the pulpit occupies practically the same position. 
 In Cooper's day the present chancel, it must be 
 remembered, did not exist. The space which 
 now lies between the chancel steps and the front 
 pews was occupied by a platform at the rear of 
 which, in the midst, backed by the oaken screen, 
 stood the altar and puli)it. This platform did 
 not extend entirely across the end of the church, 
 but was flanked on either side by two pews placed 
 
74 The Church 
 
 sidewise. On the left, as one faced the platform, 
 the two pews were occupied by the families, 
 respectively, of Richard Cooper and Judge Nelson, 
 associate justice of the United States Supreme 
 Court, whose memorial tablet now adorns the 
 adjacent wall. Of the two pews on the right of 
 the platform the first was assigned to the Pomeroy 
 family, and the second was that of James Fenimore 
 Cooper. 
 
 There is one aspect of Christ church and 
 churchyard that lies quite beyond the imagination 
 of those who journey thither only in Summertime. 
 Winter reserves a splendor of its ow^n for Christ 
 churchyard. The immaculate veil which nature 
 draws by stealth across the view adds a sense of 
 mystery in concealment. Of a winter's night, 
 when the moon rides the heavens, her beams 
 transfigure the homely old church, which seems to 
 look down upon the mantled graves in an attitude 
 of majestic benediction. 
 
Photo by W. H. Yates (Taken at mkhiiglit Viy moonlifrlit) 
 
 " The moonbeams transfigure the old church " 
 
JUN 13 19H 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 iiiM i^ ^«u 
 
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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 222 382 A • 
 
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