By Strangers Honored and By Strangers Mourned

In her book, This Republic of Suffering, Drew Gilpin Faust argues that 19th-cntury Americans spent a lot of time worrying about the disruption of the "good death" during the Civil War. One of their principal concerns was that men regularly died far from home, away from the (often female) family members who should have witnessed their last words, observed the evidence of their salvation, and performed proper mortuary rituals. In many cases, nurses, doctors, and local civilians stood in for absent family members, performing the duties that mothers, wives, and sisters could not.

This same concern occupied the minds of maritime families in earlier decades. When men died at sea or in foreign ports, their family members hoped that they had been attended in their last moments and sometimes imagined attendants into being.

A good example of this concern can be found on a cenotaph in Plymouth, MA. Isaac Wethrell was 19 years old when he died in "Martinico" in January of 1803; his brother William was 22 when he died in St. Thomas two months later. The Wethrell brothers' parents commissioned a single cenotaph for their sons, choosing to honor them with a quotation from Alexander Pope:

By foreign hands, thy dying eyes were closd

By foreign hands, thy decent limbs composd

By foreign hands, they humble grave adornd

By strangers honoured, and by strangers mournd

Erected

to perpetuate the memory

of two sons

of Thomas & Sarah Wethrell

who died in the West Indies.

William Wethrell

Decd at St Thomas

March 23d 1803

Aged 22 years.

Isaac Wethrell

Decd at Martinico

January 23d 1803

Aged 19 years.

By foreign hands, thy dying eyes were closd

By foreign hands, thy decent limbs composd

By foreign hands, they humble grave adornd

By strangers honoured, and by strangers mournd