Some of the many diaries of Louisa Bateman. (Photo by Lisa Aciukewicz)
Louisa H. Willard Bateman, who died in 1910, is being brought back to life at the Harvard Historical Society. Born in 1828 in Still River, Bateman was connected to almost everyone in the village, either by blood or by membership in the Baptist Church. The Historical Society has recently acquired 42 years of Bateman’s diaries. On the pages of these small, black leather books, she speaks to us about her life and the comings and goings of people in the village.
The society is excited to study the diaries and gain information not only about Bateman herself but also about life in Still River over a long span of time, 1865 to 1910. We are hoping to involve interested community members in helping to transcribe the diaries and reconstruct Bateman’s life and the times in which she lived. The ultimate goal is to introduce Louisa Willard Bateman to present-day Harvard residents.
The Willards were–and are–a prominent family in the history of Still River. Louisa was the second of seven children of William Bowles Willard and his wife Abiah Woods Harrod. In 1849 Louisa Harrod Willard married William Frederick Bateman, who was stationmaster in Still River and appointed postmaster there in 1855. The Batemans purchased Brick Ends (two houses east of the current Still River Post Office) in 1853 and kept the post office in their house.
At her husband’s death in 1877, Bateman became postmaster. In 1885 she purchased Rosecroft (222 Still River Road), the former Still River Academy for girls and later home to a series of private schools. Henry S. Nourse, in “A History of Harvard,” writes, “The Academy building is that in which the post office is kept by Mrs. Bateman.” His present tense suggests that Bateman was still postmaster in 1893.
Online auction find
Both the Willard and Bateman families are on Harvard Historical Society administrative assistant Judy Warner’s radar. Warner has eBay alerts set for “Harvard” and “Still River” so that she can know if anything comes up for sale related to town history. In early October Warner noticed an item up for auction: 42 of Bateman’s journals. She notified Harvard Historical Society board members to see what they thought about trying to acquire the journals. Tammy Alfano responded immediately, in the affirmative. She recognized that Louisa Bateman was the aunt of Eleanor Merrifield, the artist who hand colored photographs of buildings in Harvard Shaker Village and about whom Alfano is currently writing a book. Harvard Historical Society genealogist Susan Lee wrote back, “These diaries are too important to miss. We have nothing like this at the Historical Society.” Board member Pat Hatch concurred.
Louisa Willard Bateman, 1828-1910 (Photo courtesy of Harvard Historical Society)
After a successful eBay bidding campaign by Warner and and Alfano, the box of journals arrived at the Still River post office in October. During her initial scanning of the books with Alfano, Warner came across mention of Eliza Bateman; the name clicked with her. A few months earlier, Warner had received a photograph in the mail from a woman in Washington state. The woman explained that she had bought a box of old pictures, which turned out to be mostly photos of women who had attended Wellesley College. One of the pictures was of Eliza Bateman of Still River. The woman mentioned that she likes to “reunite people with their families” but was unable to connect with any Bateman family members, so she was sending the picture to the Historical Society. She could not have imagined that a few months later Eliza (Lida) Bateman would be “reunited” with her mother, Louisa.
A different time
The diaries begin in 1865, when Bateman was 37 years old. The first five diaries are tiny books, 2 1/2 by 4 inches. Starting in 1872 the books are considerably larger, three by six inches, and by 1897 have increased an inch in height. With a couple of exceptions, the books are black leather, fastened by a flap that slides into a tab, with entries of varying lengths written in pencil on fine-lined pages. The cursive writing, which changes considerably over the years, presents challenges in deciphering the words.
It is not just the little leather books and the handwriting that seem so foreign to the reader. The words themselves create pictures of a life vastly different from that of present day society. They show a world in which people visited each other daily, spent long hours at physical chores, attended church and evening prayer meetings, and suffered ailments that went undiagnosed and had limited treatments. Children tended to stay where they had grown up. Large, close-knit families living close to each other were the rule, rather than the exception.
Many diary entries describe who visited Bateman or whom she visited, how she went to “Chh” (church) all day. And she seemed to be constantly washing and – a really foreign concept – ironing. She talks about going to Worcester and coming home on the Shoofly, which Judy Warner’s investigation has concluded was the train that ran from Worcester to perhaps Ayer. Another reminder of what a different world it was is Bateman’s entry in 1865: “Had a tin peddler to stop overnight.”
Bateman’s fourth baby, Eliza, was born on April 8 of 1870 “about ten past ten at night.” The next entry is not until April 23 when she records that she was “up and dressed today for first time.” No need to worry about how long a hospital stay your insurance covers for childbirth!
One thing that hasn’t changed since 1865; you had to leave town in order to buy anything. An entry notes, “Eleanor and I went to Worcester and got a new dress.” In November of 1878, Bateman records that Freddy and Lida (her son and daughter) went with her to Clinton to purchase a mattress. On Saturday, June 4, 1910, just seven days before her death, Bateman states that she and her daughter went to Boston: “Lida and I did some shopping. Lida bought her a dark blue serge suit at Stearns paid $25 for it marked down from $38. I bought a white bedspread paid $1.75.”
Throughout the diaries Louisa talks about her physical ailments, often saying she doesn’t feel “smart” today, with a sore eye or a cold. Louisa’s last entry, on June 5, 1910 says, “Went to church feel as if I had some cold this evening.” Six days later she was dead. Her obituary of June 11 records that she “passed over the river” and cites the cause as pneumonia. She was 82 years old.
In the pages of these diaries is the woman—a devoted mother, grieving widow, hard-working housekeeper, carrying on with family and social commitments in the face of frequent illness. And here, too, is a sense of what life was like in the last half of the nineteenth century in a small New England town.
The Historical Society is looking for people who might be interested in helping put the pieces of Louisa’s life together. We are working on how best to transcribe the diaries and figure out the identities and relationships of the people mentioned in them. If you have any interest in being involved in this project, please contact curator@harvardhistory.org. We need help bringing Louisa Willard Bateman back to life.
Carlene Phillips is a member of the Harvard Historical Society.
