Old Bonaventure Cemetery Poem Discovered (c.1833)

Sublimely beautiful the scene!
And as I gaze around
I feel that nature hath proclaimed
It consecrated ground.

No rite of man, hath allowed it
But Time – who summons all
To wear the emblems of his power
And answer at his call.

These noble Oaks whose hundred arms
Are stretching wide and high;
(As if the very trees aspired
to reach the glorious sky;)

Even these are shrouded with veil
By nature lent to time;
The long grey overhanging moss
Which marks the southern clime;

O’er stately trunk and branch ‘tis threwn—
But still the bright green leaves,
Like youthful beauty, peeping through,
Seem laughing at the wreaths.

And there the ruined garden walks
Of other days declare,
And the deserted tomb-stone tells
Of valued friends that were.

The world, its follies, and its noise
To solemn thoughts give way—
We feel the power of Nature’s God,
In his sublime array –

Farewell: tho’other scenes I love,
Where nature’s beauties shine;
The tribute of my heart must be,
Thine, Bonaventure, thine!!

– M.E.C

My good friend and fellow storyteller and author of the book, “Savannah Spirits,” Louis Clausi, came across this Bonaventure poem published in the April 8, 1833 edition of The Georgian, a now very defunct newspaper.  He was perusing the fascinating and wonderful Library of Congress website Library of Congress Newspaper Search using various key words and came across it. Special thanks to them obviously! Truth-be-told I have been sitting on it for months but alas, so goes the life of a storyist with random snippets of history scattered about both in my home and on my laptops various!

I am not entirely sure how “known” this poem has been in the current sense of historians collecting things so only use the word “Discovered” in the title to draw attention to it and not to say we’re the first to really discover it. I’ve seen a lot of literature on Bonaventure Cemetery but have never personally seen a poem written about Bonaventure before it was officially a full time operating cemetery. So yes, “its NEW to me!” And I’ll gamble, “new” to many others also.

The poem, presumably titled “BONAVENTURE,” written by a mysterious signer, “M.E.C.” does indeed pre-date Bonaventure Cemetery as an actual business entity coming into play later in 1846.  And hence why he or she in this poem is observed waxing more about the natural beauty of the fauna and foliage versus monuments, not unlike later writers John Muir and Oscar Wilde who in their Bonaventure Cemetery devotions would similarly comment. This leaves me to believe that our traveler, M.E.C., was walking around Bonaventure Plantation (c.1754), and when he refers to “deserted tombstones,” he’s referring to the founder’s plot of The Tattnall family just off of what is now Colonial Garden. It contains some of the oldest burials, including that of Harriett Fenwick Tattnall (c.1802), which is considered “the oldest in-ground burial.” However M.E.C. does not specify their name or where he finds these headstones. So although its fair to say that The Tattnall ones would be the most evident in the 1833 overgrowth, might he have seen others that have gone lost or belonged to other burial situations? Perhaps those of the French Navy who buried some 800 men in a mass grave during the Siege of Savannah conflict of 1779? Did they have a few markers set down? Its unlikely but can we say with assurances that there were positively none? Its an interesting question I think. And having been a plantation that once stretched from what is now the main cemetery entrance to the State of Florida, might he have seen gravestones of former workers, staff or slaves? Although M.E.C. does not specify, much has been lost at Bonaventure, including over half of the records from fire and flood. And having been a groundskeeper myself and one who daily sees the “handiwork” of others even now? I can tell you that as solid as some headstones are? Many break easily, fall into quick negligence if there is no family to rescue them or notice they are gone. The life of a headstone is generally bleak to be frank so I wonder about these monuments M.E.C. is mentioning. Suffice to say however, that for a poet, M.E.C. probably suggesting The Tattnall stones as “the founder’s,” they were the best known and probably easiest to encounter for let’s say any fans of his poem, BONAVENTURE.

The Tattnall Family Plot (c.1860s) Photo from a stereoview by renowned Bonaventure photographer Jerome Wilson

All the same, it points to a Pre-Cemetery era and even decades before, when we know that the word “Bonaventure” was a household name in America and in Europe and much more so than people realize in the current sense of her new found fame. Individuals like M.E.C. were some of the earliest fans showing the love that became a spiritual part of everything the place is today. Kudos M.E.C. whoever you were. Not a half bad poem if I do say so myself.

19th Century Bonaventure Cemetery drawing By Harry Fenn showing what was then the Warsaw River in the distance. Made from a Jerome Wilson Photo

My Huckleberry Friend…

By Shannon Scott

Some of my fans and friends out there have already read this but wanted to add it to my blog as its been a popular request. Really looking forward to the expanded version of this story one day so people can really appreciate what a great friendship I shared with Paul Blatner and what a great man he was to this life!

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So I have a theory on why I saw the ghosts two days ago. It was today that I learned that on the same day, one of my very good friends, mentors, teachers, Paul Blatner died. He was an amazing man who I will never in my life forget and he was just 58. He was one of the most amazing collectors I have ever met and very distinguished in his accomplishments. He started The Savannah History Museum, was an archivist at The Smithsonian and some of the objects on permanent loan there in the black studies collection, are considered priceless and the most valuable in the museum itself. He was funny, like a brother and I just talked to him less than two weeks ago for the last time and we shared some laughs. I am currently writing a story to honor his memory and our friendship and will be sharing it with everyone soon. A funny moment occurred this morning. I did not know his funeral was in Bonaventure at 10:30am but as I walked my tour to the map board there, I see the red funeral arrow bearing his name. I briefly mentioned him to my crowd, and first person to drive in and up to me was Professor John Duncan (Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil character) and naturally he asks me for directions. So for about 5 minutes I stood there and directed everyone towards Paul’s plot. I believe this was the universe operating yet again and Paul was smiling on this. Our friendship was about stories and ribald and while he was being sent to the Great Beyond, I was peppering the grounds shaman style with the energy of my storytelling. Naturally I intend to make him a stop on my tours in the future. Yes, later I went back to have a word with him and wanted to take him something personal that was “of me” and “of us.” As he was one of the great bottle colllector’s of Savannah, and almost literally, “The Father Of,” I placed a broken 19th century Savannah made Ginger Beer bottle at his grave as a flower vase. I found this in Bonaventure awhile ago and to me, the broken aspect, symbolic of the end of our earthly friendship and that yes, an earthly gesture that there will never be another like him. Bottles can be seen as the foundation collection of real collectors and shows humbleness and the ability to see beauty in simple things, which too are often very valuable as objects. At core bottles show others that you’re willing to really get dirty and dig to find something great and that you’re more than high brow academic or snooty antiques’ dealer. I kid the reader not, but I could bring Paul a pile of mixed glass out of a hole in the ground and Paul could tell me where and when every piece if it was made! The other object is a miniature of the statue to the Unknown Confederate Dead that you find in Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta. Paul was a Reb through an’ through and had one of the most amazing Confederate collections in America, including the rifle surrendered to Sherman by the Savannah Mayor. Interestingly, Paul was also buried with his father today. Howard Lee Blatner who died in 2009. I also knew him and he was a great man who grew up in the orphanage, Bethesda, America’s oldest orphanage begun by Ben Franklin in 1740. His father had been cremated and Paul had his ashes in a closet the whole time so Paul’s sister interred both of them together and as they were really a team for so many years in so many things, it was only right. I am grateful that Paul doted some amazing story objects on me as collector and that these things are now part of my storytelling. I consider it a blessing that I will always be evoking his name with the ways that I continue to inspire people. In that sense, we too will always be a team. And to some degree, this is why I believe I saw the two children spirits with their Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn hats. We were two friends that like children, delighted in the world around us and made one another giddy without any thought paid to who was watching. Long live Paul Blatner. The South mourns you fine sir.

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My Song Dedication To My Friend Paul Blatner