A really splendid zinc monument, something like a royal tomb in a medieval cathedral. Since zinc monuments like this seem not to have been made after World War I (although the panel inserts continued to be made for decades), this monument was probably installed before Dr. Smith and Mrs. Smith died, with the appropriate panels ordered later.
There are some forgotten corners of the Allegheny Cemetery that look as though they might have originally been small graveyards later absorbed into the cemetery. The Schusler plot is in one of those corners. The plot is marked by an obelisk, probably erected in 1872; but a monument to an eighteen-year-old daughter (whose statue is sadly mutilated) is scarcely less grand.
Religion filled her soul with peace
Upon a dying bed.
Let faith look up. Let sorrow cease
She lives with Christ o’erhead.
We miss thee from our home, Maggie,
We miss thee from thy place.
A shadow o’er our life is cast,
We miss thy smiling face.
The only private mausoleum in the cemetery, this is not quite as grand a construction as some of the ones in the great city cemeteries. But it must have impressed the neighbors in this little country town.
The epitaph is a version of a poem commonly associated with valentines:
Each little flower shall sweetly say,
In absence oft I do regret thee;
And though a wanderer far away,
Yet never do I once forget thee.
Not a particularly artistic stone, but it has a poem or hymn as an epitaph. You will pardon, and possibly correct, Father Pitt’s clumsy attempt to transcribe and translate it:
Was hat ich in der Welt,
Als nur ein Sieches leben:
Ich war mit Angst umgeben,
Und unters Kreuz gestellt.
ich musste Thraenen giessen.
Hier kann ich Trost geniessen,
O schoenes Himmel Reich.
What had I in the world
but to live a sickly life?
I was surrounded by fear
And placed at the foot of the cross.
I had to pour out tears.
Here can I know comfort,
O sweet Kingdom of Heaven.
Emma Henriette Dietsch lived only to the age of 33 or 34, so it may well be true that her life was filled with sickness; but that is also one of the expected clichés of a German epitaph. German epitaphs seem to dwell more commonly than English ones on the discomfort of the present world. From that observation one might draw all sorts of sociological conclusions about the status of German-Americans in nineteenth-century society, but one would probably be wrong; it is more likely simply a matter of tradition.
Old Pa Pitt has not been able to find this poem anywhere on the Internet. It is just barely possible that it was an original composition, but Father Pitt does not consider that likely. From the meter he suspects it is an old hymn, but it must be a relatively obscure one. Any help in identifying it would be appreciated.
Exceptionally fine lettering on a monument whose style old Pa Pitt will call German Baroque. The epitaph, unfortunately damaged, is a variation of a popular German epitaph found on many tombstones:
Here in this rose-garden
Will I await my wife and children.
…children, do not pass by
….that I am your father.
