MERIWETHER COUNTY, GA - HISTORY Greenville Cemetery ***************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/ga/gafiles.htm *********************** This file was contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by: Michael Watts History of the Greenville Cemetery By Evelyn R. Winchell (c. 1952) In 1825 at Indian Springs, GA, a Treaty was signed by a group of White settlers and the Creek Indians. This Treaty ceded to the Whites the remainder of lands owned by the Indians in the state of Georgia. Included in the land was the 202½ acres upon which Greenville stands today. After the signing of the Treaty the Indians living here moved west across the Chattahoochee River and four years later, in 1829, the city of Greenville was established. The acreage comprising Greenville was divided off into lots of various sizes and sold at public out-cry to settlers wishing to erect homes and stores. Six of the lots were set aside by the Inferior Court for public purposes—one for each of the three religious denominations, one for a jail, one for a school and one for the cemetery. The cemetery lot consisted of a little more than 4 acres, designated on the original map of the town [as] “Lot # 92 ­ For Graveyard.” The plot was situated on the northeast edge of town on a hill overlooking the beautiful forest-covered valley and the caves. Used by the Indians both for homes and storage spots and later affording an ideal playground for generations of Greenville children. The settlers and their slaves cleared the graveyard lot. (Some skeptics insist that that was its only clearing from that day until this). A crude road was shoveled through the center and all land on the left side was reserved for the White people. All land on the right side [was reserved] for the Negro slaves. No definite individual lot lines were staked off—the plan being that as each death occurred the family of the deceased would at that time select the site desired and mark off as much ground as would be needed for the immediate departed member as well as the others of the clan who would eventually follow after. The lots were free and remained free until 1946 when an ordinance passed by the City Council placed on each lot a fee of $10.00. For four years the cemetery remained vacant. The settlers of Greenville were necessarily hardy and healthy persons, capable of undergoing the rigors of clearing out a wilderness. In 1832 the first death occurred—and the first person to be interred in the Greenville cemetery was Mrs. Nathaniel Barnes. Her husband was one of the town’s original citizens, having purchased Lot #24, where Camp’s Plumbing Co. is now located, for a combination home and business establishment. In 1832 graves were seldom marked, except in memory. But Mrs. Barnes’ grave is identifiable today after 120 years by its distinctive shape—an oval shaped mound constructed of brick. The grave is on the West side of the cemetery. It is significant that the first death in Greenville was that of a woman, for a trip through the older part of the cemetery will reveal, on the marked graves, a heart-breaking number of very young women, usually with a tiny baby grave beside it, silent testimony to the high mortality rate among newly born infants and their mothers in the early days. When the Indians gave up their land and left this section, one remained in Greenville. This one was an old Creek Indian man who protested vehemently against moving from the territory of his birth. So pitifully did he plead to be allowed to remain that Miss Caroline Hill offered to give him a home and to be responsible for him. Miss Hill and her parents lived in the house near the school where the J. B. Irvin family later resided and which was recently demolished to make way for a school parking lot. The old Indian lived in the Hill home and worked in the yards and gardens, winning the love and respect of the entire town. In 1833 he died, was given a resting-place in the White cemetery, and buried according to White burial customs, except that his grave faced the rising sun of the East, according to Indian tradition. A brick tomb was erected over him, and this old Indian, who forsook his own people for ours, became Greenville’s only Legend. Probably no person has lived as a child in Greenville since this man’s death 119 years ago [Editor’s Note: thus, this essay was written about 1952] who has not been placed atop the tomb by some adult and instructed to demand in a loud voice, “Indian, Indian, what did you die for?” Even the inflection of the voice has been passed from generation to generation, for the word “die” must be drawn out into a long, plaintive wail. Then the credulous child is told to listen carefully and the Indian will reply “N-o-t-h-i-n-g!” It would be interesting to know how many hundreds of children of Greenville, many long dead now, have stood tensely on that grave, waiting fearfully but hopefully for the muted voice from deep in the tomb. The cemetery, in a roundabout way, almost caused the town’s richest citizen of the early 1800’s to be “ridden out of town on a rail” by his irate townsmen. This was Mr. Abraham Ragan, a moody man who couldn’t find a home to satisfy him. He built a fine residence where the home of Mrs. C. A. Stokes now stands. He didn’t like that location so he had the house rolled down the hill where it is today occupied by the Herman Woodruffs. He didn’t like that either, so he sold the home and built another on the lot where the H. H. Nevill home now stands. He wasn’t too happy there so he took Mrs. Ragan and left on a trip to Cuba to rest up from his residential problems. Going to Cuba in those days was comparable to going to Tibet today and the town was both awed and impressed by a couple so wealthy and so venturesome. >From Cuba Mr. Ragan brought back a barrel of oranges, a strange fruit he had tasted there for the first time and which he wished to share with his hometown neighbors. The barrel was taken to the Courthouse and the people of Greenville were invited to help themselves. No one here had ever seen an orange before, as most of them were pioneers who had trekked to Georgia from Massachusetts and Pennsylvania. After being assured by Mr. Ragan that the people of Cuba ate them every day of the week without ill effect, the Greenvillians finally ate the oranges. But, still dubious, they were tensely alert to any little pain or unusual physical symptoms. Unfortunately, the very next week several deaths occurred within a period of three or four days. And unfortunately each person who died was one who had partaken of Mrs. Ragan’s fruit. Wrath against Mr. Ragan flamed into the open and the poor man decided quickly that he loved his home very much indeed and did not leave it until the doctors, not too sure themselves, convinced the people that the oranges were not to blame for the epidemic of deaths. Funeral customs long ago were quite different from those of today. The deceased was prepared for burial by relatives and friends, for there were no Morticians at that time. And almost a week’s mourning period was observed before the final rites. If the funeral took place in the winter the mourners had an extra burden. The churches were large, barn-like affairs with no insulation or inside finishing at all. There were no glass windows, but only wooden shutters to keep out the cold and rain. Seats were hard benches with a single plank, painfully hitting the occupant just under the shoulder blade, stretched across the rear to serve as a backrest. Along the walls were nailed blocks of wood with holes in the centers to hold candles. There was no heat but many of the mourners came prepared with small square stoves made of tin, with holes punched into the sides to allow the heat to escape, and handles by which they were carried. People thus prepared were wise, for the funerals of by-gone days lasted for several hours. First there were several songs by the entire group, with not a single verse omitted. Then the pastor, only his eyes peering out from behind a very high pulpit, delivered his sermon for at least one hour—the oration becoming progressively longer and more eloquent according to the degree of prominence the deceased had attained in life. After this each friend and relative present extolled the virtues of the departed and, much more uninhibited that we are today, often condemned at length the vices of the dead brethren as well. At the cemetery the church services was duplicated in somewhat shorter form, at times lasting only for one hour. Friends then completed the burial. These old- time funerals and interments were trying for family and friends, but there was comfort in contemplating that when death inevitably came there would be none of the impersonal arrangement and routine such as is the custom of today. When life was finished the olden-time Greenvillian knew that he would be gently laid down in his last sleep by the hands of his friends and neighbors. These life-long neighbors and loved-ones would publicly express their bereavement and at last would themselves gently and sorrowfully sift the earth over him, committing him to Nature’s compassionate breast. At our cemetery [there] are several graves of unusual interest. One is the handsome shaft erected to a soldier of the Revolutionary Army, killed in battle [sic.?!]. This shaft is unfinished, giving the appearance of having been broken off about half way to the top. On this serrated surface is a wreath, executed in concrete, the whole symbolizing a life snuffed out prematurely. Another grave is unmarked and in all probability no one living today knows its location. Its interest and its tragedy lie in the fact that for 72 years beneath this mound of earth has rested a young boy, far from his home and family. And in those72yers no relative or friend has ever visited his grave. >From far away Oklahoma the 24- year old youth came in 1880 to work for the Winslow family. Two months later he died of typhoid fever. A message was dispatched to his family who replied that they would soon advise the Winslow as to what arrangements they desired. But time passed and no word came. Finally, through necessity, the Winslow family secured a lot in the local cemetery and conducted the last rites for this forgotten boy. Should the 1880 issue of the Vindicator, which mentions his death, ever be lost from the files or [from] the Clerk’s office, then even the name of the tragic youth will be forever lost. In Greenville, in the early 1800’s, there was one Catholic family, the Duncans. Indeed, they were the only Catholics in the county, and something of a curiosity. When the first death occurred in this family a serious problem arose as to the place of burial, for though the Protestants granted interment in their cemeteries to those of any faith, it was against the canons of the Catholic Church. A Priest at Savannah was contacted and bestowed a special dispensation. Eventually five members of the family were buried in the local cemetery. On the graves of the three men, Benjamin, Thomas, and Joseph, are three identical inscriptions, “Oh Lord, Jesus Christ, Be Merciful to His Dear Soul.” The other two graves have no markings of any kind, not even the names of the occupants. Inquiry reveals that down through the years the general believe has been that the two unmarked graves were those of the women of the family and that the omission of markings, and the identical inscriptions on the graves of the men were both in accordance with ancient laws of the Catholic Church. However, one of our present day Catholic citizens says that he does not believe any such laws ever existed. So the mystery remains. Why do they have the same inscription? And who are the [family] members in the unmarked graves? If they were women of the family, why was all identification omitted? In the Greenville cemetery are the graves of many known far and wide as prominent and famous—such notables as Joseph H. Terrell, Governor of the State of Georgia; Judge Hiram Warner, Congressman and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Georgia; Colonel Henry R. Harris, Congressman for 20 years and Third Assistant Postmaster General of the United States under President Grover Cleveland; Superior Court Judges J Render Terrell and Obediah Warner and many others. We are proud of the achievements of these people of ours. But to each of us our own loved ones lying there are outstanding from the rest. Death, the Great Common Denominator, has made even the least of these equal to all the others, sacred to us, and our responsibility—our responsibility and our loving privilege to make of this hallowed spot a green and flowered couch for those who sleep away the still lapse of the ages. NOTE: This essay was given to Mrs. Margaret Lee Watts Sampson.