Saved by the bell.
That rings a bell.
Graveyard shift.
These three phrases have the same origin—Victorian coffin bells.
The quaint custom of the coffin bell became obsolete well over a century ago. During the nineteenth century, however, the bells offered blessed peace of mind to the bereaved of Victorian-era Georgetown.
During the Victorian years, a grave concern was the fear of being buried while still living. That concern was spurred by rare occurrences of seemingly dead individuals reviving prior to burial. Those incidents, though uncommon, led to an awful question—what if the supposedly deceased revived after burial?
Modern medical practices assure that could never happen nowadays. Modern burial practices doubly assure it. But burial alive was a possibility in the 1800s. Nineteenth-century medical care left a greater margin for error. Comas were sometimes mistaken for death. Catalepsy, a frequent side effect of schizophrenia prior to the advent of modern drug treatments, produced a trancelike catatonic state during which its sufferers appeared dead. Victims of highly contagious diseases such as diphtheria, smallpox, cholera, measles, scarlet fever, and typhoid fever were hastily buried to prevent the spread of the disease. Most of the victims passed away at home and were pronounced dead by family members, rather than by an attending physician. By law, the physician who signed the death certificate did not have to personally examine the alleged deceased. The doctor could sign after being told the victim was dead.
The possibility of live burial worried some people to no end. To assure their peace of mind, numerous coffin alarm devices, most featuring a bell, were patented from the mid-1800s through the early 1900s. By far the most widely used coffin bell alarm was Bateson’s Life Revival Device, also known simply as Bateson’s Belfry. Invented by George Bateson, it assured that should the deceased awaken after burial, he would have the means to ring for help.
“A most economical, ingenious, and trustworthy mechanism, superior to any other method, and promoting peace of mind amongst the bereaved in all stations of life. A device of proven efficacy, in countless instances in this country and abroad,” read Bateson’s advertisement.
During the Victorian age, Bateson’s Belfries and other coffin bell alarms adorned many of the new graves in cemeteries far and wide. Georgetown County was no exception. In at least two instances in South Carolina—one in Beaufort and one in Newberry—a supposedly dead fever victim revived after being interred above ground in the family crypt. Since fever deaths occurred in Georgetown County, it was natural that some new graves here were graced with Victorian coffin bells.
The coffin bell device was easily recognizable. Visible at the head of the grave was a curious-looking pipe with a sheltered cover at the top containing a small bell. Not visible was the rest of the device. A string was attached to the bell. The string ran down the pipe—sometimes referred to as a “breathing tube”—and into the coffin, where it was attached to the ring finger of the deceased.
Theoretically, should the deceased turn out not to be dead after all but in a coma or catatonic state, he would be saved by the bell. Any movement of his hand would ring the bell above—That rings a bell—alerting the listener posted in the cemetery. Listeners worked shifts—graveyard shifts—for the first few weeks following burial.
After several weeks had passed, the bell and pipe were more often than not removed by the undertaker and saved until requested for another new grave. Very few bells remained indefinitely on graves.
The cemeteries of Georgetown County, many containing graves dating back to the eighteenth century, are for the most part carefully groomed. Nowadays, no trace of a coffin bell is known to remain on any Georgetown grave. The transitory pipes, strings, and bells of nineteenth-century coffin alarm devices were long ago removed from grave sites. Any pipe not removed would have rusted away long ago, allowing the bell to drop to the ground.
Some old cemeteries in remote areas, however, have fallen into disrepair, especially when the accompanying churches no longer exist. Such is the circumstance of the cemetery of Old Pee Dee Methodist Church in western Georgetown County. Most of the people buried there were interred during the nineteenth century.
With the Old Pee Dee Methodist Church long gone, the burial ground has been growing wild for many years. The low wrought-iron fence surrounding it is barely visible because of overgrown shrubs and hedges. A deep blanket of pine and cedar needles assures that no grass ever needs to be cut. Towering evergreen trees have grown up through many of the graves. Large poisonous snakes are quite at home here, should anyone chance to wander through.
Such is an environment in which a coffin bell might remain for many years. The death dates of family members noted on headstones in the cemetery indicate that many perished close together, which suggests that a number of those buried here were victims of contagious fevers. Death from such illnesses prompted hasty burial—and sometimes a coffin bell. It was rumored in the late 1990s that coffin alarm bells had survived intact in the ancient churchyard. However, any remaining bells were long gone when this author thoroughly explored the churchyard while researching this book.
The Bateson’s Life Revival Device was so popular that George Bateson became wealthy from its sales. However, no record of burial alive has ever been recorded in Georgetown. It is safe to assume that no coffin bell was ever rung here by a buried person. The only time the coffin bells rang was when being installed on new graves and then again when being removed weeks or years later.
Ghostly ringing, however, is a different story. Though the coffin bells are long gone, the eerie tinkle of their placement and removal remains.
The reverent silence pervading Georgetown County’s ancient live-oak-shaded country cemeteries is usually broken only by birdsong from the treetops. In the churchyard cemeteries in town, the birds are hourly eclipsed by the tolling from the bell towers.
Sometimes, though, the tiny, distinct tinkle of a bell from long ago chimes among Georgetown’s ancient gravestones. This pure, clear ring, sometimes only a sharp tinkle or two, is the ghostly sound of the placing or removal of quaint old precautionary Victorian coffin bells.