Rebecca Haseltine and the Reverend Joseph Emerson II

Just before I left Charleston, I received a communication. . .earnestly requesting me to remove my seminary to Wethersfield. ~ Joseph Emerson

the Women's Seminary in Byfield

In our last post we left our cousin Rebecca Haseltine's (3C7X) husband Joseph Emerson in Charleston, SC in an attempt to get relief from his maladies while Rebecca held down the fort in Beverly, MA. In June of 1817, after eight months in the healing southern weather, Joseph felt well enough to sail back to New England. Sometime that same year, Rebecca gave birth to daughter Eleanor (4C5X). In early 1818, in order to augment his income, Joseph decided to continue with his astronomy lectures, this time in Boston.

Joseph was in Boston for most of February but, all the while, he was making plans for a project he had been interested in for many years. Near and dear to his heart was the idea of educating women for the teaching profession. By March of 1818, he had bought a house in Byfield, MA, a scant 18 miles from Beverly, where he planned to open a women's seminary. In addition to the seminary, there was to be a preparatory school which would be taught by Rebecca, who now had four children to care for as well. After the Emerson family settled in to their new home, Joseph declared himself so happy that "he should never move until he moved to the eternal world."

Joseph's joy was shortlived. Only a year after the move, another tragedy hit the family when two year old Eleanor died. Not long afterwards, Joseph was ready for a new opportunity that presented itself in Saugus, MA. The seminary building in Saugus that he was offered was larger and also connected to the church, where he had agreed to preach.

When first addressing his new congregation in Saugus, Joseph quoted from a passage in Psalms that illustrated his idea of women in education: "That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace." Joseph then expounded on the importance of his seminary saying that "[t]he literal import of this prayer, is, that our daughters may be qualified to till with dignity, propriety and usefulness, the important stations, which they may be called to occupy."

The move to Saugus turned out to be fruitful. Joseph's seminary went from 50 students in 1821 to 169 in 1822. His life's work in this field, instructing over 1,000 women, would earn him the distinction of being a "pioneer in women's education."

more hard times

In 1821, another child was born this time a son, Edwin (4C6X). Edwin's illness in May of 1822 would put a strain on the family as Joseph reported in a letter that Rebecca "has scarcely been able to afford me a moment's assistance in teaching." Luckily, Edwin survived and the couple put their noses to the grindstone for another year. In November of 1823, however, Joseph's health began to fail once again and he sought the southern clime once again to help heal him.

While in Charleston, SC, Joseph's old melancholy began to get the best of him. From a letter to his daughter Nancy:

Dec. 23. — My prospect of health and usefulness in this world, is dark and comfortless. O my children, my dear children, what will become of my sweet babes without a father! — and their mother without a husband! I hope, however, that I am enabled, habitually to commit my beloved family to Him, who has said, leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.

Your very affectionate father, J. E.

On December 17, he wrote to his brother: "I have been afflicted with a mental imbecility, and intellectual prostration, for which I could not account." And from his diary on January 5:

With a heavy heart, I have entered upon the present year. . .But dreary and dismal is the prospect before me. At least as it relates to the present evil world, " Shadows, clouds and darkness rest upon it." Most of my plans for future usefulness, seem blasted forever.

a move to Weathersfield, MA

Happily for Joseph, the southern climate began to work its magic and, by the end of January, it seems the clouds had lifted. He wrote in his diary: "How great is the change that has taken place in my health, feelings, and prospects, in a single month."

On April 25th 1824, Joseph wrote to a friend about a new prospect that had been offered to him:

Just before I left Charleston, I received a communication, signed by Mr. Tenney and seven others, earnestly requesting me to remove my seminary to Wethersfield. What will be my decision, I cannot foretell.

Joseph spent some months considering the offer and made his final decision in the fall. In November, the family purchased a house in Weathersfield and moved the seminary there.

three deaths

While Joseph was living in Weatherfield, the mother of his first wife, Nancy Eaton (5C5X), died. He had kept in touch with Nancy's father and he wrote a letter to his former father-in-law, our cousin, Ebenezer Eaton (4C6X). The letter certainly demonstrates the emotion he felt for his beloved Nancy and her family that he seemed unable to convey for Rebecca.

Wethersfield, April 17, 1825.

My dear and much respected Father, — Again the Lord is covering us with a cloud — perhaps, in his anger. It may be, however, that in relation to our dear departed friend, we have much more occasion to sing of mercy, than to sigh of judgment? How few of her age, are still among the living! Instead of prematurely taking her away, like our beloved Nancy, he has spared her to a good old age. . .In your secluded and peaceful dwelling, I have spent hundreds of hours, upon which I look as among the most happy of my life. Of the numerous visits, that I have made you, every one has been pleasant, at least to myself; and I hope, I can also add with truth, that every one has been useful. . .

In October of 1826, Rebecca's sister Ann (3C7X), who had been doing missionary work in Burma for the past 13 years, died suddenly of smallpox. It took some time for the news to reach the family in the United States. Upon hearing the news, Joseph wrote to his in-laws:

Wethersfield, April 22, 1827.

Beloved Parents, — We received the solemn tidings yesterday. Our dear, dear Ann has completed her pilgrimage, ceased from her wanderings, and gone to her long home. Though removed far from us, and withdrawn from earth, she is not removed from our affections. She still lives in our hearts. More fondly than ever, does recollection cherish her smiling image. Though she may be removed " ten thousand leagues beyond the sun," does she not seem actually nearer, than when she was the other side of the world. She is as near us now, as she would have been, had she died in our fond embraces — as near to us, as she would have been, had we actually seen her borne upward in a chariot of fire.

A year later, in July of 1828, Rebecca, at the age of 45, gave birth to her last child. The child was named Ann (4C6X) after her aunt who had so recently passed away. Joseph wrote the happy tidings to a friend:

We have a daughter, now, in the fifth day of her age, small, plump, and promising. Her mother wonders how it has come to pass, that she should be so " pretty." But possibly the maternal crystalline humor may have a greater power to magnify beauty than any thing else. O that she may be adorned with a beauty, infinitely surpassing personal comeliness.

To these lines, Joseph added the quote "Beauty and youth; in vain to these we trust; For youth and beauty shall be laid in dust" little knowing that his Ann would live for only two months. Sadly, the little girl died in September of 1828. Joseph duly wrote to Rebecca's parents of the sad tidings.

Wethersfield, Sept. 4, 1828.

Beloved Parents, — At the sight of my letter, your heart may be ready to ask, "Is it well with the child?" I trust, "it is well." She is indeed taken from us ; but I hope, she is taken away from the evil to come — that our gracious Savior has taken her to himself. This morning at half after seven, her little spirit was emancipated. For several weeks, she had been sick and pining. Yesterday we were encouraged to hope, that she was better, and fondly anticipated her recovery. This morning, I was called, between four and five, to witness the solemn scene of her departure. Dear little one, how gently, and how sweetly did she seem to " languish into life." Several times, indeed, she had considerable struggles with the last enemy. But at length, she fell asleep so gently, as to leave it doubtful for some time, whether she was sleeping or waking. Sweet babe! She has finished her course, when it was scarcely begun.

more trying times for Joseph

About the time of daughter Ann's birth and death, Joseph was dealing with a situation that must have caused him much consternation. When the church found that he belonged to the venerable organization of Mason, they immediately excommunicated him. He wrote to his brother about the situation:

Wethersfield, July 28, 1828.

My dear Brother R. — Within a few days, I have been occupied in writing a letter to the members of the Consociation of Genesee, N. Y. They have denounced me as a mason. I have felt constrained in duty to attempt my defence, and to deal with them as offending brethren for condemning me without a trial and without a crime.

Then to the Consotiation that had denounced him:

Dear Brethren, by this resolve, I consider myself as excluded from your pulpits, and cut off from your ministerial fellowship; and I should rejoice to learn, that I might be admitted to participate at the holy table under your ministration. I would willingly make a great effort, to mingle in your feasts of charity. I should hope, that such a measure might conduce to heal the incipient breach, which now threatens to be more wide and dreadful, than any that has yet desolated the fields of our Zion. Could I be admitted to the privilege, without first renouncing the masonic fraternity'?

Dear Brethren, it struck me like thunder from an unclouded sky. Excommunication for my secret sins, without a moment's warning, would have been scarcely more surprising.

The difficult situation no doubt added to the health woes of the the poor reverend. Over the next two years his health failed to the extent that he feared for his life. In October of 1830, he went to New York in an effort to restore his health. In a letter to Rebecca:

New York, Oct. 18, 1830.

My dearest Companion, — In great mercy, my life has been preserved, and, as I hope, my health a little improved. Journeying in the stage was manifestly beneficial, and by steam-boat, not apparently injurious. I should feel much encouraged with regard to my health, if it were not, that I am taking so much medicine — nine doses a day. Is not this enough to make a well man sick? And yet it does seem to have made a sick man better. I say seem; what the reality is, may be better known a year hence.

Next up: The final chapter in Rebecca and Joseph's lives.