Rounded Out With a Sleep

It probably won’t surprise anyone that I have a number of collections that reflect my interest in a wide variety of subjects. One collection that I don’t talk about that much is related to death. I know that that’s an uncomfortable subject for many. I always have my ears attune to how people talk about death. I have noticed in the last few years that the euphemism “passed away” has been reduced to “passed.” I assume this refers to the transition from life to what lies after life in the undiscovered country, but to my mind it clouds the reality of death. I do not use euphemisms in reference to death. As a pastor, I deal with death much more than many do. I do not feel it helps anyone to diminish the impact or reality of death. To shield someone from the reality that their loved one has died does them a disservice. We don’t know what the next world is like, and we can’t know, and it is perfectly fine to think of someone as having gone into another phase of life.

Having said that, it is important to acknowledge the reality of death. Even if our spirits live on in a way that we can’t understand, our physical bodies die. Everyone dies. I will die some day. I wish that an exception could be made in my case, but I don’t see that as forthcoming. Having a small collection of items related to death helps me think about it. It’s something I need to do, to reflect on death, since part of my role is to help others work through their grief and deal with death.

One thing I watch for in antique shops are memorial cards. These black cards were popular from around 1880-1900. I have a number of them, including one for my great great grandmother who died around the turn of the century. These cards were usually printed on black cardboard with gold or silver ink, and included the name and dates of the deceased. They also have imagery related to death.

A more unusual item in my death collection is a name plate for a casket. These often turn up in estates. EBay usually has a selection of them. These plates were intended for the casket of the deceased. When I first bought it I had the odd feeling that it had surfaced (literally) when the occupant’s grave was opened. I took comfort in learning that in the second half of the nineteenth century these plates were often on display during calling hours, and very often the family kept them rather than actually affixing them to the casket. Whew. I wasn’t holding an item that was a by-product of grave robbing.

Naturally, I wanted to know more about the man whose casket plate I have. This is what I’ve learned. First, I need to say that this name plate is not for sale, and at this point I don't plan to give it to his descendants, if he has any. I have no interest in getting in the middle of family disputes and rivalries, and by giving or selling it to one family member I am excluding other family members. I have no idea how this name plate came into the possession of the antiques dealer I bought it from, but it is safe to say that it probably was in an estate sale of some sort. I acquired it legitimately.

The casket name plate is for Nahum Russell, who died on July 17, 1854 at the age of 63 years and 5 months. The dimensions of the plate are 4 3/8 x 3 3/8 inches and is made of silver plated pewter. The inscription reads:

Nahum Russell
Died July 17th 1854
Aged 63 Yrs. 5 Mos.

Online research turns up that he was born in Arlington, Massachusetts on February 16, 1791, and died in Greenfield, New Hampshire, where he is buried in the Greenvale Cemetery. He married Lucretia Johnson of Francestown, New Hampshire on January 28, 1817 in Arlington, Massachusetts. There is a Nahum Russell living in Brighton, Massachusetts in 1816, his name being on the voter list, who could possibly be our person.

In 1820 he appears as the head of a household in Francestown, New Hampshire with two sons under the age of ten. It appears that he and Lucretia had a total of four children, three sons and a daughter. One son died as a teenager. Another son moved to California.

Lucretia, born in 1790, died in Bennington, New Hampshire on October 11, 1875, so she outlived her husband by over twenty years.

The Genealogical and Family History of New Hampshire says about Nahum that he “was one of the early settlers in the town of Greenfield, New Hampshire, where he came in 1823. He owned a tract of two hundred acres on land on what is now known as Boylston street, and was a farmer and extensive cattle raiser.” (p. 730)

So, there it is. A person’s life summed up in a few paragraphs, with one object that is directly connected to him. These few facts, though, only give us the barest details about his life and who he was. From these details we know nothing about what sort of person he was, if he was a good parent, an active member of his community, and so on.



The name plate for his casket tells us one thing. He was mourned. It never made it on to his casket. It was saved after his funeral as a reminder. One little detail is poignant--the upper left corner of the plate has its plating worn off while the rest of the silver plating is more or less intact. Could it be that Lucretia held this plate many times and passed her fingertips over his first name, where the plating is worn off? It's quite likely. I know that some would see that as overly romantic, and perhaps it is, but it wouldn't be surprising. We all mourn someone, and hopefully some day someone will mourn each of us. That's part of what it is to be human.

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself—

Yea, all which it inherit—shall dissolve,

And like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep. (William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1)