Chenango Telegraph, Norwich, NY, March 4, 1875
The Past & Present of Norwich
By S.S. Randall
A Midnight Funeral
It is within the familiar experience of most that musical or melancholy sounds - the deep-toned vibrations of a bell - a chant or concert of human voices - or a prolonged and startling cry - heard in the quiet stillness of the night, or early morn - especially in a secluded neighborhood - possess a solemn beauty or significance not at other times or under ordinary circumstances pertaining to them. While a temporary resident in Virginia in 1848, I recollect listening at the early dawn of a summer morning, to the plaintive and melancholy chant of a negro procession, composed of a band of some thirty slaves, accompanying their overseer and owner, from an adjoining plantation, on their way to a far Southern home; and never was the untutored music of the human voice, attuned to tones of deep human woe, and pathetic heart-felt lamentation and sorrow, so touching and expressive. As its prolonged cadences gradually died away in the distance, they seemed like angel voices ineffectually mourning over the woes of afflicted humanity, under the heaviest burdens of tyranny, oppression and sin. And verily their wild appeal to the "God of Sabaoth" was not unheard or disregarded; within a few brief years the armies of the Republic were encamped on the very ground these hapless souls had trodden in the anguish and bitterness of their souls and the melancholy wails of despair with their "dying fall" were changed to triumphal hymns of thanksgiving for the priceless boon of freedom!
Nearly fifty years have elapsed since I was awakened at the weird hour of a black winter midnight by the deep tones of the triangular bell of the old Baptist Church booming at long intervals its melancholy toll announcing the passage of a silent and solemn procession with its sad burden of mortality, through the solitary and deserted streets, to the "house appointed for all living." "Loud long and deep, the bell had tolled," and its plaintive echoes were wafted by the bleak and desolate winter blast to the awe-stricken ears of the entire village population - telling a mournful tale of youth, beauty and loveliness prematurely withered and stricken down by mysterious dispensation of Providence.
A few miles north of the village - in that part of the town, now known as North Norwich [Chenango Co. NY], was the farm and residence of Roger Bissell, a worthy and universally respected citizen, with a large family of children. One of these - the eldest and fairest - had recently become the wife of a prosperous and promising young man - the eldest son of a wealthy farmer, residing two miles south of the village; and a long and happy future seemed in perspective to open upon the newly wedded pair. Not many weeks, however, were destined to elapse before all these bright prospects were clouded over by the deepest gloom and desolation! On the occasion of a family visit to the house of the bridegroom's father, a large collection of friends were assembled - greetings and well wishes were freely exchanged - and "all were happy as a marriage bell." During the morning a younger brother of the husband who had for several weeks been absent, engaged in teaching in one of the southern towns of the county, made his appearance unexpectedly - announcing that in consequent of the reported prevalence of that fell destroyer, the smallpox in the neighborhood of his school, he had deemed it prudent to discontinue his functions temporarily and return home. Although not the remotest conception of danger was entertained by any of the happy group assembled around the hospitable hearth, the suggestion was made that, as the materials for its preservation were readily attainable everyone present, as a matter of judicious precaution against the possible appearance of the formidable pestilence, should undergo a thorough vaccination. No opposition appearing to this proposition, the attendance of a skillful physician was immediately procured; and with one solitary exception everyone present cheerfully and promptly submitted to the operation. That exception was the bride - who resolute and steadfastly persisted in opposition to the most urgent entreaties, in her refusal. Within the ensuing two or three days after the dispersion of the party to their respective homes, the young man was stricken down with the terrible disease - the fatal seeds having clung to his clothing or hair during his journey from the infected district, where the virus had evidently been communicated. A general quarantine was voluntarily resorted to, by every member of the family, and each of the guests who had been among the visitors: and not one of those who had been vaccinated on that occasion was in the slightest degree affected by the disease or any of its symptoms. What was still more strange, the young man had on the Sunday previous to his seizure - wholly unsuspicious of any danger, attended with the family the morning and evening service of the Baptist church - and not an individual of the large audience with the single exception of himself, was subsequently attacked. He, himself, speedily recovered, by the aid of a vigorous constitution, - escaping all permanent injury or disfigurement. But the blooming and lovely "young bride of the vale" was mortally stricken; and after lingering in excruciating agony for a few weeks - during which her heart-broken husband, was assiduously in attendance by her side, - her pure spirit ascended to its heavenly home!
Beyond the immediate members of her afflicted family, her devoted husband, and the physician in attendance, one individual only could be found bold and fearless enough to arrange and superintend her funeral obsequies and attend the remains to their last resting place. At the dark and gloomy hour of midnight - the sad procession of mourners, "solitary and alone" took up its dreary route along the deserted village street, to the burying place - with the accompaniment only of the deep tolling of the bell; and after reverently consigning "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust" under the kindly supervision of their sympathetic and invaluable friend Samuel Pike, returned to their desolate home! The bereaved husband after the expiration of a few weeks, again appeared at his father's home, - untouched by the ravages of the fell destroyer, which had removed from among the living the "desire of his eyes" and the worshipped partner of his bosom. Solitary victim of the dreaded pestilence, she had atoned with her young and innocent life, for a momentary impulse of unreasoning, unreflecting, fatal obstinacy. To every other member of that joyful gathering assembled at the house of her husband's father - to the many hundreds exposed in the crowded church to the same fearful and deadly peril - God had been merciful and gracious. For wise and inscrutable purposes, - which it becomes not frail and ignorant mortals to attempt to penetrate, - He saw fit to transplant the sweetest flower to his own amaranthine gardens of immortal fragrance and perennial blooms! And of all that once happy and joyous group, assembled to greet bridegroom and bride at that well remembered farm house, one only survives [in 1875] to recall the prolonged and mournful echoes of that deep-toned bell, announcing the sad and gloomy "Midnight Funeral."
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