Excerpt
May 18, 1946
[This letter] gives me an excuse for setting down some notes on a subject that, for many years, I have wished that I had the ability to properly describe, namely: Decoration Day Services at Lyme Churchyard in the 1880’s. To my mind that simple rite had a quality that would be hard to find in this day and age…I am going to try to furnish you with some notes on it, as I recall the scene from my boyhood.
The setting has not changed so much that one could not picture for himself how it would have appeared to one driving past. The church building, with its spire and peaked windows and green blinds, still stands on its flatiron-shaped site. Although it is only of wood construction, to me it always seemed to be a churchy church. While it has long since lost its authority as a church- services were held there only infrequently in my time- it was for me a stronger link with the past than Zion church in Monroeville. The building was not used for Decoration Day services. They were held out-of-doors in the grove of trees south of the church. But the church seemed to have its influence, just because it was there.
A description of the interior of the building does not belong here at all. But before we leave it, let me mention two features that took my attention as a boy. The pews had gates that were closed when the members of its family had been herded inside. I can still see the brass fastenings. Pews with gates were from the English style I suppose. The pulpit was a very high affair, approached by a flight of steps on each side, which were boxed in by a high handrail. There was the story of a sawed-off rector holding services there. When it came time for the sermon, he climbed up the stairs to the pulpit, where just his head was visible from the pews, and announced his text: “Be not Afraid, It is I.”
The churchyard then was surrounded by a white wooden fence, an archway at the entrance back of the church, a flagpole at the side of the entrance. Not much change from its condition today, except that the things of wood have rotted away and have not been replaced. The preparations for the services were much more extensive than the services themselves. First, some two or three days in advance, the men of the families gathered there with their scythes and rakes to clean up the churchyard. There was a heavy growth of new grass to be cut. It takes an experienced hand to mow grass with a scythe so that the effect is not that of a home-made haircut. Is the rasping sound of a scythe stone whetting a scythe blade on a hot summer day familiar to you? And if that sound was described as cacophonic, would that word drive you to the dictionary, as it recently did me? Would you recognize that sound anyplace? No. Then, back you go in the town-bred class.
On the day before, we youngsters did one of our chores by going into the woods and gathering mandrake blossoms--about the one wild flower that does not wilt before you have carried it home. On the morning of the day, the flowers from the yards were gathered--lilacs, peonies, roses--and taken to the churchyard just before services, where the graves of the members of the family were decorated, with a bouquet for each soldier-grave left at the entrance for the living ex-soldiers to distribute. The flag was hoisted up the flagpole that morning. Once, Father with some helpers attended to this. And after it was all over he was chagrined to have it pointed out that they had gotten the flag wrong side up, making it a distress signal.
The services were held in the grove near the church. A small speaker’s platform had previously been built, and seats provided for the elderly. But for most of the audience it was a standing affair. A minister for the duties in his line was present. And a speaker for the oration of the day. A small organ had been carried from the church. With its aid, the Stultz family furnished the music. This family consisted of some three or four brothers--all lean lanky fellows with pretty fair voices--one taught the night singing classes at Lyme school during the winter. But he never won me away from my style of singing on one note--and a sister who played the organ. “We are camping tonight on the old Camp Ground” fitted the spirit of the occasion best. “Marching through Georgia” might have been one of the songs. But I do not remember it.
For speakers, I am hazy except for one. One year, as a last resort, they took on a Methodist preacher of the revivalist type. His address made up for what it lacked in scholarship by its vehemence--shouting style. At the height of one flight, he pulled this one: He said that someone had once told him that the Union Army was made up of bums and tramps, and that, then, he had unbuttoned his collar and called the man a liar. The matter of unbuttoning his collar and then letting the word, liar, escape his throat bothered me then. And I have found no authority for it since.
If the speaking grew tiresome, it was not necessary to sit it out. You were already standing. And it was easy to sidle away and go over to where the horses, stomping and swishing in their fight with the flies, were tied. After the exercises, a procession lead by the ex-soldiers wandered through the cemetery, placing flowers on the graves of the soldier dead. And that was the end. The people got into their vehicles and started for their homes arriving about noon. But it was still a sacred day--with no farm work. The parents and some of the older children generally went to Monroeville for the exercises in the afternoon. I remember going once. There was a parade lead by a Mr. Heuston (there was something wrong with his record, I do not know what) dressed in a blue uniform with a skirted coat buttoned tight under his chin, and with bright-colored sash, and riding a high-stepping horse--to be in style with his rider’s title of Grand Marshal. There was a banner proclaiming that "Eternal Vigilance Is The Price Of Liberty." I am telling you this much about the Monroeville celebration to show you that even then the Lyme exercises were distinctive.
Who were the people at the Lyme services? They were largely from the Yankee and eastern families, such as the Masons, Rushtons, and ourselves, with a few representatives of the old English families--the Sawyers, McCurdies, Friths--but only a few of these, as the days of the flourishing of these families was past. But the church which was their creation and the graveyard where many of them were buried made their influence felt.
The later-coming farmer English did not take part. Nor did the still later-coming Germans. They had had no members of their families in the army during the Civil War and had not been established there long enough to really become a part of the community. So the Day was observed by those families that had a close contact with the War.
When it came to actually putting down in words a
description of the Lyme services, I am afraid that I have done a poor
job. But maybe with that much of a start, your imaginations will help
you to fill out the picture. As I look back on it, there was a spirit
of reverence, of piety and of quiet dignity that seems to be lacking
today.