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MILITARY FUNERAL SIXTY YEARS AGO

Honors Paid a Revolutionary Soldier of Old Norwich

Burial Customs of the Past

Simplicity and Lack of Pomp the Rule

C. A. C. writes to the Bulletin:

     Miss Caulkins relates in her history of Norwich that in August, 1835, Joshua Yeomans, a veteran of the revolution, died, and was buried with military honors. He lived for many years in the cottage on Lafayette Street, afterwards owned by Daniel Tree, and now occupied by Mr. Hunt, the florist.

     Mr. Yeomans was one of the first men in this vicinity who responded to the call of liberty. He was present and fought at Bunker Hill, being one of the last men to leave the works, and he afterward served in the colonial armies until the end of the war. With the few remaining patriots of the revolution he was always invited to participate in the observance of Independence day in Norwich. In Boston the survivors of the battle of Bunker Hill were treated with distinguished consideration; and at the annual celebration of the Fourth of July they were honored guests. On one such occasion Mr. Yeomans was of the number invited to join his compatriots in Boston. On his return he related that he was not only invited to the public dinner at Faneuil hall, but he was taken in a carriage, with the mayor, and driven around Boston. He saw Bunker Hill, the Navy yard, the frigate Constitution, the old state house and the spot on State street below where the first revolutionary blood was shed by British red coats. He saw the cannon ball fired by Washington from Dorchester heights, and imbedded in the front wall of the Brattle street meeting house, and many other objects of interest. That visit to Boston was one of the happiest events of his life, and was always a green spot in his memory.

TOLLING THE BELL.

     In those early days it was the general custom to toll the meeting house bell on the death of a person, afterwards striking the years of his age, followed by one additional stroke for a man and two for a woman. At funerals passing the bell would commence tolling when the body was placed in the hearse, and continue striking until the remains were deposited in the grave. The bell was also rung at the early morning for people to go to work, at noon for dinner, and the curfew at 9 o’clock admonished all to go to bed. On Sundays the bell was rung for people to assemble in the house of worship, and it tolled when the minister left his house, ceasing only when he arrived at the meeting house. In these days houses of worship were called meeting houses, the exception in town being Christ Episcopal church, which many persons declared was an offshoot of the church of Rome.

RIFLE GUARDS AS ESCORTS.

     On the occasion of the death of this soldier and patriot it was deemed proper to give him a military funeral, and the Rifle guards, a company attached to the Eighteenth regiment, and of which the writer was a member, were invited to attend the obsequies and perform funeral escort to the grave. The invitation being accepted and the company ordered to parade, they met on the appointed day and marched to the residence of the deceased. On their arrival  the funeral ceremonies had already commenced; the house was filled with mourning  friends and relatives. Two ministers were present, one of whom gave an eloquent and impressive account of the life and service of the departed. A hymn was sung, followed by a concluding prayer, and the bearers, who were only selected at the time, as was the custom, came forward, after friends had viewed the remains, to take the coffin out to the hearse. the coffin was made of plain mahogany, with brass lifting handles at either end. There was no name plate. The initials of the deceased and his age were formed in the universal black letters and figures on top. No flowers of wreaths was placed on or around the coffin. Such tributes were not customary. It was only enshrouded in the flag under which the deceased had served his country so faithfully. The hearse was the property of the town. It had become rusty with age. There were no undertakers then, no private hearses, no professional nurses, The sick were cared for and attended by friends and neighbors. After death the corpse was never left alone; watchers were appointed for night and day, and funerals were conducted by some friend of the bereaved family.

THE FUNERAL PROCESSION.

     The coffin had meantime been placed in the hearse, the military company had taken its place to lead the procession, ministers and bearers came next, then the hearse, with two pall bearers on each side, the mourners following, after them a few veterans, friends of the deceased, then friends and neighbors, all walking two by two. There were no public hacks in those days. At funerals everyone walked.

     When all was ready, the order was given and the military led the mournful march, with flag folded, drums muffled and arms reversed. There were no military bands in those times outside the large cities. The music on this occasion was two snare drums and one bass drum and two fifes. At the first tap of the drum the passing bell commenced tolling and the cortege moved on. The stillness around seemed suited to the occasion. The day was lovely, the air tempered to a delicious mildness; summer had reached its meridian, and nature had put on her most glorious apparel; the fruit trees on each side were bending with golden fruit; the sumac and golden rod were glowing in crimson and gold; the willows seemed to bend to the occasion in silent respect, and all the gifts that a ripened summer holds were lavishly bestowed on every side. The sun was on its downward course in the west and in the blue ether above were only those glorious, great white fleecy clouds, ever changing in form and lazily rolling in the infinity of space.

SCENE AT THE GRAVE.

     As the funeral procession moved on in silence and sadness, no sound was heard except the tap of the muffled drums and the mournful tone of the passing bell.

      On reaching the old town graveyard the military formed in double platoons on each side of the open grave. The minister was followed by the bearers with the coffin, which was placed on supports over the grave. The mourners gathered inside of the military lines. The scene at this time was befitting the occasion; the coffin surrounded by the mourners, the military standing at rest, the great number of people outside with uncovered heads, standing among the graves of the fathers of the hamlet; the head stones with their quaint forms and inscriptions showing that many whose graves they marked had been buried more that 100 years. The sun was low down in the west, its rays illuminating the whole scene with almost supernatural brightness. The minister standing at the head of the grave having concluded his final prayer, as the coffin was lowered into the grave by the bearers repeated, “And now we commit the body of our departed friend to its last resting place, there to remain until the great Trump sounds on the resurrection morn.” At that moment the passing bell ceased tolling. Three volleys were fired by the military over the grave of the soldier and patriot, and all was over.

     The military company then filed to the street, formed in platoons and followed by the procession, moved to the late residence of the deceased. Here they stood in two lines, with presented arms, while the mourners passed through their rank to the house. Afterward the friends dispersed to their homes. The military again formed in platoons and with flag unfurled, and quick music and quick step, marched to their armory and were dismissed.

     I have thus described from memory the funeral of a revolutionary soldier, which took place more than sixty years ago and as for many years there had been no military obsequies on a funeral occasion, there was a large public attendance both at the house and at the grave.