The witch’s grave in Big Hill Cemetery, between Broughton and Norris City, Illinois sparks folklore just by its existence. The macabre epitaph and who carved it is a local mystery. But an even bigger mystery is why did one young lady’s tragic death and burial turn her into a witch?
When you grow up close to the countryside, you end up in country graveyards. Teenagers congregate there, in groups and couples. It’s where you get drunk, get high, get laid and most of all, get scared.
Teenagers are still close enough to being little that it’s often easier to remember how to get scared. Some of the old fears aren’t hardened into disbelief yet. Going into a country graveyard at night is liberating. You’re facing your fears. And standing in an open field surrounded by trees, the moon and stars overhead, in a sea of tombstones is downright magical.
The best graveyards have that one tombstone. The one with a story behind it. So famous it’s got a name.
In Big Hill Cemetery, outside Norris City, Illinois, that tombstone is known as the Witch’s Grave.
Or witch’s stone, and likely a few other similar names. This isn’t history, it’s folklore. The story changes with every telling. The purpose of the story isn’t to impart history. It’s to scare the listener.
People go to these graveyards because things happen there. Folklore has many layers. What we hear about the past is just the tip of the iceberg of what was once there. To find proof of that, all you need do is look to the present. Like this story sent to me about Big Hill …
“I did go out there with some friends back in high school drinking, a couple friends got hammered drunk. As my buddy is puking in a bucket he started to choke. Another friend stuck a finger in his throat to clear his airway and quickly removed his finger when it was stabbed by something in our friend’s mouth, and hand to God swear it on my children. we pulled a fishing hook out of the back of our friend’s throat. Coincidence? I don’t know but bizarre… definitely!!!!“
Oddly enough, I can believe this. I’ve hung out with guys like this all my life, and at times, I’ve been a guy like this. The last time I went fishing – decades ago – I gave it up when I hooked myself in the cheek.
The problem with being a graveyard with that one tombstone, is it attracts traffic. People talk about kids going into graveyards like they didn’t do it themselves when they were that age. Occasionally someone will screw it up, and there’s no getting around that. Big Hill was heavily vandalized a few years back, so it’s easy to see why they don’t like nocturnal visitors.
But that’s where kids learn. Sure, they learn about beer and other nefarious things, but they also learn the folklore, which contains that one germ of history. And generation after generation passes it down. So rather than being a forgotten place, graveyards are still living places.
And the people who are buried there sometimes get a chance to be remembered, once more.
The epitaph that screams “witch”
It’s a relatively common epitaph throughout the world, “As I once was so you are now. As I am now soon you will be. Prepare for death And follow me.”
It’s so well known that there’s a famous retort to it … “To follow you I’m not content, until I know which way you went.”
The epitaph dates to at least the fourteenth or fifteenth century in Europe, and you find it fairly often along the east coast of the United States. But the further west you go, the less you see it. By the time people were pushing west in numbers, the epitaph was out of fashion. Still, you do find it here in the midwest, as well as cropping up further west and south.
Around here it’s rare, and for those who don’t follow epitaphs, it can be unheard of, and obviously, macabre. Being an epitaph of some length, it’s usually found on larger stones, and those are often the most interesting and unique stones in the cemetery.
Those are the stones that get a story, and somewhere along the line, the story sticks. The purpose of the story, as you sit at night in a graveyard is to scare the shit out of the listener. Ghosts make for a good scare, but they’re unpredictable. You need an entity you can call up, to dance around the grave widdershins, just like they did back in the old days to summon … the witch.
Most epitaphs talk of the deceased and that’s it. This inscription speaks directly to the person reading it, a warning from beyond the grave. That’s a powerful connection for anyone with an imagination.
And so the poor young lady buried beneath this stone becomes a witch.
A sunny afternoon in Big Hill Cemetery, looking for the witch’s grave
I’d heard about it since I was a teenager, 40 something years ago. But it took me this long to get out here, a random Facebook post by a friend jogged the memory.
The landscape is pretty much flat leading to the cemetery, and even before you get there you realize why it’s called Big Hill. It is a big hill. Not huge, nor particularly high, except compared to the surrounding countryside.
You pass Shiloh Church nearby, around the foot of Big Hill. There’s usually a church associated with a cemetery this size, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here. The burials predate the founding of the church in 1869. The current Shiloh Church building, actually quite picturesque, dates to 1941 and it’s still in use. Instead, being a high point, the early settlers naturally thought it a good place to bury the dead. You don’t want your kin washing up in a flood after all.
It’s a country lane up Big Hill, a slow incline with lovely views, then a sharp curve and up you go to the top. Lisa’s driving and she guns it, probably overkill, but she’s used to mountains.
The sign seems reminiscent of an old west graveyard with its bizarre lettering, hand cut out of steel. The cemetery is rectangular in shape, surrounded by woods, laid out like a football field and perhaps close to the same size.
It’s also hot. There’s no shade in the cemetery, and the sun was beating down. Graveyards are better at night, but it’s hard to read inscriptions then. There are many stories in Big Hill cemetery, so it’s easy to get lost reading the tombstones. Like the two brothers, who enlisted in the Illinois Infantry in the Civil War, and both died in 1862. There are also several Necked Discoid Gravemarkers, documented by Michael J. McNerney.
His book had already given me the story of the witch’s grave, the historical record at least. But he made no mention of witchcraft. His book also taught me a lot about tombstones in my area. It’s an invaluable resource.
Most epitaphs talk of the deceased and that’s it. This inscription speaks directly to the person reading it, a warning from beyond the grave. That’s a powerful connection for anyone with an imagination.”
We make a pass through, finding something of interest nearly every place you look. Around the back you’re in an older part, and as you reach the tree line you catch a glimpse of rolling farmland below, a truly pastoral view.
I’d seen photos of the witch’s grave, so I knew it would be instantly recognizable. Lisa was trying to read inscriptions. I told her just look for the coffin.
And there it was. At first sight it appears to be a stone coffin, covered in inscriptions. It’s actually a marker, made of solid sandstone and five foot long. These are unusual, and certainly macabre. But not unheard of, even around here. There are two others I believe in Hamilton County. And more throughout the midwest and south.
What makes this stone particularly unusual is typically these types of markers aren’t inscribed. Researchers believes that is because these were usually used to sit a coffin on for services prior to burial, not an actual burial stone in many cases. Which explains why several graveyards contain one.
The witch’s grave at Big Hill is cracked, which adds to the mystique. That becomes another aspect of the story, how was it broken? If you approach with imagination, the witch’s stone comes into focus..
Carved by a grieving husband, or a hired hand?
You have to look closely to read the inscription, and the poor spelling and lack of punctuation can be confounding …
William N. Essary in respect to his tru love Surilly Belvin Daughter of Orin and Elizebeth Belvin was Born Dec the 7th A.D. 1841 Died on ——. he 21st AD 1863 Oct 21 1863 AGE 22 yrs 10 mo And 14 days old Behod ye strangers passing by as your are now So wonst was I as I am now so you must be—Prepare for deth and follow me
Below that is a border of opposing diagonal lines, a motif repeated on the ends and sides. The stone is maybe ten inches thick, and sits upon a stone slab almost as thick.
The big question is did William N. carve the stone himself?
I know a thing or two about typography. When you look at the letters, they’re incredibly complex for someone out in the backwoods of southern Illinois. The serifs are elaborate, the lines thick where they should be, and thin where they should be. It’s not professional perhaps, but it’s studied. It could have been copied, but what samples of this type of carving could they have been looking off of?
Typically amateur stone carvers inscribed the text using alternating chisel strokes, creating a type of inverted V for the strokes of the letters. But this stone is carved differently, where each letter is opened up into negative space. The lettering looks more like handwriting, or to be precise, the type of font you see in books and newspapers.
Whoever carved it knew a thing or two about lettering, if not necessarily stone carving. To be sure, there were people in the area selling commercial tombstones. Those could be ordered as blanks and inscribed by someone local, or ordered with the epitaph already added.
If you look at nearby cemeteries you can find other examples of sandstone carved tombstones, inscribed by a similar hand. It could be the same person, or someone completely different. But the carving on the witch’s stone is not of commercial quality, but not as primitive as most amateur stone carvings. It reminds me of a lot of folk art, of higher quality than most amateurs, but still bearing the hallmarks of an individual’s style, learned as they go rather than being taught a trade.
Then there’s another theory, that it was the grieving husband. That I can imagine, taking the time to do it the best he could. Using as an example, perhaps the family bible. We know his family was a bit better off than his neighbors. So they likely could afford the big piece of sandstone, and perhaps even someone to carve it.
Still, you’d expect a professional carver to know how to spell. That’s not the case here, so if it’s not the husband, it’s another amateur, though perhaps someone with more experience than him.
But it’s carved at his direction, that much is certain. After all, the epitaph makes it clear that these are his words. And it’s an ominous warning he leaves us with.
What happened to Surilay?
Something in Mr. McNerney’s book, A Shape In Time And Space which threw me off, is that he had copied the husband’s name from the carving as William N Essary, and that he was known as Nathan. It’s possible there was more moss on it when he visited, as it’s clearly an M now.
Nathan was his father, and also the name of his son.
Which is why I couldn’t trace him through genealogy. He comes up pretty easily with an M. William McKinney Essary. He was born in 1833, here in Hamilton County. He was married to Zarelda Surilay Belvin Essary.
The spelling there is obviously different from the stone, where it’s Surilly. But doing a Google search for that name only comes as one derived from Sanskrit. I’m thinking that’s not a 19th century frontier name. Doing a search for Surilay returns William Essary’s wife, and no one else. Doing a search for Zarelda does manage a handful of people by that name, some women on the frontier. So I can assume that perhaps, the genealogy spelling is correct.
Surilay was born in 1841, around Chattanooga, Tennessee, and they were still there in the 1860 Census. It must have been late 1860 or early 1861 that the family moved to Hamilton County, Illinois, as late in 1861, her father, Orrin Belvin enlisted in the Union Army at McLeansboro.
The obvious question is what caused Surilay’s untimely death, as she was only about 22? Accidents were commonplace of course, as was disease. Particularly lethal was when communicable diseases spread throughout a community.
There are four people buried in Big Hill that died in 1863. The first was on September 3, Surilay was the last on October 21. The youngest was three years old, the oldest 36. The other two in their twenties. It’s certainly unusual to see deaths clustered that way.
From the end of August till October of that year, you can find eleven tombstones of people who died in Hamilton County, mostly clustered around this area, and mostly young people.
Surilay’s brother died earlier that year, in February. I remember the tombstones of two brothers buried at Big Hill, who died the year before while in the army, stationed in southern Illinois. Both died of disease. The father of Surilay’s husband died in 1865, about the same time as her husband’s sister. Death seem to come in clusters in this area during the Civil War.
A measles epidemic had swept through the area in the winter of 1861-62, and an army camp down the road in Shawneetown saw eight soldiers die from it.
It’s an odd coincidence to have so many young people dying in a short period of time, so disease jumps to the top of the list as a cause. Another explanation for Surilay’s early death, could of course be childbirth. That was a highly dangerous act on the prairie.
A grieving husband or a two timing cad?
Family genealogists claim that William McKinney Essary’s first son, Nathan Daniel was born in February of 1864 in Tennessee, four months after the death of his wife in Hamilton County, Illinois. According to their work, William married the child’s mother, Hannah Lemay on June 2, 1867, over three years later, and their next child was born nine months after that. It would be another eight years before they had another child, but then had five more in the next few years.
It doesn’t make sense that while she was speeding towards an untimely death, he was making babies down in Tennessee. It doesn’t fit with the obvious devotion to Surilay, shown in the tombstone. And it doesn’t explain why he waited three years to marry the child’s mother.
So I dug deeper and found the 1880 U.S. Census, and located William M. Essary there. Contradicting the genealogists, it reads that N. David Essary was born about 1863, not 1864, and in lllinois, not Tennessee.
So it’s certainly possible, and quite likely that Surilay was the child’s biological mother. Or perhaps she died during an outbreak after giving birth. William McKinney Essary raised their son, with help from his cousin, Elizabeth, who was still living with them in 1880, and had been living with the family since William McKinney was a young man at least.
My guess is when he remarried, his new wife adopted his son and together they raised him as their own. He claimed her as his mother, because he never knew his biological mother. The genealogy isn’t meant to blacken his father’s name. It’s just nobody thought of how this would look a century ago, when Nathan was asked who his mother was.
So the facts don’t make William McKinney Essary out to be a scoundrel. And it’s quite possible that he was the devoted husband that the tombstone makes him out to be.
Tragedy surrounded them. Surilay’s father was on his way home from the war, when the ship transporting them caught fire, killing about him and about 200 more soldiers from southern Illinois. Soon after William’s father and sister died. It was time he started over.
So that just leaves the question of how did Surily become the witch of Big Hill Cemetery?
The witch hunt turns up more names, and tombstones
When I started researching witch’s graves around the country, I quickly found this on a forum … “Witches Killed by there {sic} towns people would use this on every Witch Tomb across the US … “As I Once Was So You are Now. As I Am Now Soon You will Be. Prepare For death And Follow Me.”
So that’s obviously not historically correct in any way. In fact, of people known to have been executed as a witch, most had no tombstone and none have that epitaph.
Where it’s valuable is as a marker of where the folklore exists today. The saying is equated with graves reputed to be of witches, who were killed by the townspeople. It doesn’t take much to realize that this is the plot of probably half of the horror movies involving witches in the 1960s. They still make them from time to time. And that’s likely a booster shot for the legends told about these graves, if not the original source.
But the folklore could predate that era. It’s just that every generation puts its own stamp on the legend, and in the process obscures the earlier stories which inspired them.
So where are these other witch’s graves? Here’s a sampling …
In Katy Magnolia Cemetery, in Katy, Texas, the grave of Barbara Snyder has the distinction of being the witch’s grave.
There’s nothing about the lady which would make a person think witch, except the overly large tombstone with that same epitaph, speaking right to the person reading it.
Legends include a cold breeze that blows from the stone, black cat conventions at the base and leaving a coin on the grave ensures good luck. And reading the epitaph aloud brings bad luck. There as here, visiting the stone is a high school tradition.
May D. Knotts is buried in the Quaker Valley Cemetery, in Riverton, Kansas. She died in 1904, fourteen years old. The legend has it that suspected of being a witch, she was burned at the stake. Or hung from a tree.
In reality she died of pneumonia. Again, the only connection is this same epitaph.
Then there’s Annabelle Davis, who died in 1881 at the age of 19. She’s buried beneath what’s known as the Witch’s Pyramid, in Ridgeway Cemetery, Ridgeway, Ohio. It’s said to always be warm to the touch, and her ghost has been seen fluttering around it.
The only thing about her that leads people to believe she was a witch is this same inscription …
Remember youth as you pass by
As you are now, so once was I
As I am now, so you must be
Prepare for death and follow me.
Lisa and I are standing at the gate of Big Hill Cemetery, looking out over the open field. Off to the left and some ways away is the witch’s grave, the tombstone of Zarelda Surilay Belvin Essary.
Lisa asks me what I think Surilay would make of this, remembered 150 years later for being a witch, when she wasn’t?
It’s a fair question. But the story of her being a witch leads people to still be interested in the person buried there. Which from time to time, inspires someone to investigate. And find that no, of course she wasn’t a witch. And so I’m able to tell a bit of her story. And if my guess is true, that Nathan Essary was actually her son, in some strange way that feels like reuniting two lost souls. And if it’s not true, it’s more fodder for others to look into and solve the the mystery for themselves.
Meanwhile, on dark nights, under the stars and moon, young people carry on traditions older than the communities where they still exist.
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