Moon Mausoleum
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How did a Darthmount student from a prominent family in Woodstock, Vermont end up as a vampire? The story of Frederick Ransom shows that the belief in vampirism or the fear of the undead was not just for the simple and uneducated country folks.
How did a Darthmount student from a prominent family in Woodstock, Vermont end up as a vampire? The story of Frederick Ransom shows that the belief in vampirism or the fear of the undead was not just for the simple and uneducated country folks.
When you hear the term “vampire panic”, your mind might conjure up foggy rural graveyards, torch-wielding villagers, and folksy farmers digging up their loved ones by lamplight. But history, as it often does, has a way of proving us wrong. This was the case with Frederick Ransom — a well-educated young man from a respected New England family whose story reminds us that fear, especially of death and disease, respects neither class nor education.
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The American writer, Henry David Thoreau wrote in his journal of 26 September 1859: “The savage in man is never quite eradicated. I have just read of a family in Vermont—who, several of its members having died of consumption, just burned the lungs & heart & liver of the last deceased, in order to prevent any more from having it,”
Most likely he was referring to the vampire case of Frederick Ransom. In the early 19th century, in the cold hills of Vermont, the so-called “vampire panic” wasn’t just superstition; it was desperation along the New England coast. And not even a Dartmouth College education could save Frederick from becoming a posthumous scapegoat for a disease no one yet understood.
Frederick Ransom was born into a prominent family as the second son and had seemingly his whole life ahead of him. He grew up in South Woodstock, Vermont with his father Richard Ransom and Elizabeth Mather with loads of siblings. By the standards of his day, he was part of New England’s educated elite — a college student at Dartmouth. But tuberculosis, known ominously as consumption, didn’t care about family names or academic ambitions.
In 1817, at the age of 20, Frederick succumbed to the wasting disease. It wasn’t uncommon — tuberculosis was the grim reaper of its time, claiming more lives in the 18th and 19th centuries than just about any other illness. Entire families were ravaged by it, and lacking the scientific knowledge we have today, people turned to folklore and desperate measures.
The family doctor, local physician Dr. Frost tried his best, but there was no cure for the disease yet, and as a result, desperate attempts and alternative cures based on the supernatural grew forth.
His little brother, Daniel Ransom, wrote this about him: My remembrance of him is quite limited as I was only three years at the time of his death… It has been related to me that there was a tendency in our family to consumption…
Vampire panics were a tragically real response to tuberculosis outbreaks, especially in rural New England. The belief was that a deceased family member could, from beyond the grave, drain the life from surviving relatives. The “solution” was grim: exhume the suspected corpse, check for signs of unnatural preservation, and burn the heart or organs to stop the so-called vampire’s deadly influence.
Frederick’s family was no exception. Despite their standing and education, fear trumped reason. After Frederick’s death, his father, desperate to protect the remaining family from the slow death of tuberculosis, had his son’s body exhumed. He was worried that his son would rise from the grave and attack the rest of the family.
In accordance with folk belief, they removed his heart and burned it in a blacksmith’s forge. It was in Woodstock Village Green and a public place where all could see. It was common that the ashes of the remains would either be inhaled or mixed into a medicine. It isn’t confirmed that this happened to Frederick, although some sources said that his remains were given to his family. He was buried in Ransom-Kendall Cemetery.
Daniel wrote about his father: It seems that Father shared somewhat in the idea of hereditary diseases and withal had some superstition for it was said that if the heart of one of the family who died of consumption was taken out and burned, others would be free from it. And Father, having some faith in the remedy, had the heart of Frederick taken out after he had been buried, and in was burned in Captain Pearson’s blacksmith forge.
Unsurprisingly, the ritual didn’t work. Tuberculosis isn’t a vampire’s curse; it’s a contagious bacterial disease. As Frederick’s surviving brother, Daniel Ransom, would later write:
“However, it did not prove a remedy, for mother, sister, and two brothers died afterward.”
In a touch of dark irony, Daniel would go on to note that it had been said the family was predisposed to consumption, and that he, too, would likely die young. But in a final, satisfying twist to this grim tale — Daniel Ransom lived to be over 80 years old. But although he was young, he would never forget the fear and desperation that had his family and community in a tight grip.
Another vampire story often seen in connection of the Ransom incident is that of Corwin in Woodstock. The story was retold in 1890 in The Vermont Standard, many years later, and some now believe that this story was actually a retelling and much changed version of Ransom. An old woman told about the case that had happened fifty years earlier and that she had witnessed the burning of his heart herself.
According to the story, a young man with the surname Corwin died of “consumption“, “ and was buried in the Cushing Cemetery in June of 1830 corner of Cloudland Road and River Road. Six month later, the young man’s brother became ill. The newspaper claimed that local physicians, including the respected Dr. Joseph Gallup and Dr. John Powers from the Vermont Medical College, was the ones claiming this had to be the work of a vampire.
The first brother’s body was dug up and examined. His heart, which was found filled with blood, was removed, boiled in a pot, and buried in a hole with a seven-ton block of granite on top. To complete the grisly ritual, the site was then sprinkled with the blood of a young bullock.
Although not verified, it looks eerily similar to the case of Frederick. There was no boy named Corwin in the records who died, but the names of the physicians did actually exist.
Two years later, The Vampyre by John Polidori was published and is considered to have kickstarted the undead and vampires in modern literature. His death and exhumation was not the first, and it would not be the last during the Vampiric Panic that threw New England back to the dark ages.
His grave lies quietly now in South Woodstock, a reminder of the fragile line between reason and superstition, and how grief can drive even the most educated people to light the funeral pyres of old legends.
So next time you hear a ghost story about New England’s vampire past, remember Frederick Ransom — the Dartmouth scholar whose heart was fed to fire by those who loved him most. Not because they were ignorant, but because they were human.
Valley News – Among the Undead in Woodstock
Fredrick Ransom (1797-1817) – Find a Grave Memorial
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