The former Eaton Academy

William Stone’s leg had to come off. That was the assessment of the good Doctor Edward Dagge Worthington in Eaton Corner on March 10, 1847. Poor William, a shoemaker, had broken his ankle in an unfortunately severe fashion. Doctor Worthington would have to amputate. But the doctor had a way to lessen the pain. It was called sulfuric ether. William would not feel a thing during the operation.

It was the first time in Canada that major surgery was performed with the use of general anesthesia. This procedure had been tried for the very first time just five months earlier by a Boston dentist, William T.G. Morton.

Established in the 1790s, Eaton Corner was among the first villages in the region settled by Europeans, following close behind Sawyerville and the very first settlement of Pleasant Hill.

In the following decades, Eaton Corner was larger than Sherbrooke, known then as Hyatt’s Mills. This all changed when the railway was built through Cookshire instead of Eaton.

These are just a few of the many fascinating historical tidbits one can learn on a visit to the Eaton Corner Museum.

Today’s Eaton Corner is a collection of some of the oldest houses in the region, dating from the early 1800s. The Museum is housed in the former Congregationalist Church and the historic Eaton Academy at the intersection of Laberee Road and Routes 253/210.

The Church is a beautiful white clapboard building on one side of the road, and the equally attractive Academy is on the other.

Museum President Marc Nault and Secretary Sharon Moore said the board of directors is always looking for new ideas for projects and activities to attract public participation and interest in the rich history of the Cookshire-Eaton and Newport areas. In the past, the Museum hosted an ‘‘Old-Fashioned Day’’ when volunteers dressed in period costumes and demonstrated 19th-century woodworking and construction techniques. Museum board members are particularly looking for people with historical skills to demonstrate.

Volunteers Denis Palmer and Royce Rand focus on keeping the buildings in pristine condition. When dealing with centuries-old buildings, this is a full-time occupation, particularly for volunteers with other demands on their time, said Palmer. Painting is high on the agenda this year.

A permanent exhibit in the museum is divided into sections to tell the region’s storied history, beginning with the Abenaki Indigenous presence as well as early European settlers, advances in transportation, commerce, industrialization, and onward.

Plans are in the works for a possible series of Sunday afternoon workshops this summer, including «Music on the Lawn» events with local musicians. Rothney also said the Museum is working with the Cookshire Fair to set up a display of antique farm equipment on the fairgrounds.

The Museum’s annual general meeting is planned for Saturday, May 24, at 1:30 p.m.; members and the public are invited. The current board of directors has seven members. ‘‘We are actively looking for more volunteers’’ said Nault. ‘‘Please come!’’

Editor’s note: This is the third in a series of articles from people who have experienced domestic
abuse or violence.

In 1979, I met Anna May in Bury and was immediately drawn in by her charm, wit, and superior intelligence.

The following year we married, and I moved onto what she called her «little fermette in the woods.» She convinced me that with its five-acre hay field and 75 acres of scrub forest, it was ideally suited for her long hoped-for experiment of living life as in the 1800s. Everything would be done by «the sweat of my brow.» I was allowed only hand tools and ingenuity. No tractor, chainsaw, or machinery of any kind.
She sent me to the woods that first summer with an ax and a wheelbarrow to begin gathering and hauling firewood for the coming winter. She set about making detailed plans for multiple large organic gardens. We obtained a family of goats for milk, a collection of caged rabbits to provide us with meat and furs, and a dozen laying hens.

Our outbuildings were too small for our little collection of livestock to keep warm through the long winters. They were much colder than they are now. We moved the animals to the basement of the house. When the heavy November snows began, I set about piling the white stuff around the foundation for added insulation.

Eventually spring arrived—mercifully, as it saw us rationing the last remaining pieces of firewood, few enough to count on two hands.

Not long after this, the waking nightmare began. I imagined that our struggling together, shoulder-to-shoulder, for basic survival would have drawn us closer, and our various strengths would have balanced out each other’s challenges. Instead, our relationship went awry. Something snapped. I could not make sense of it. I soon found myself cast as the enemy.

I was to blame and guilty for everything that was wrong in our lives. Not only was everything my fault but, according to her, it was all part of an elaborate scheme that I, in league with the devil, had cooked up to make her life miserable. She was convinced I was sent to her by unseen outside forces to take her home from her and steal all her worldly possessions.

She began isolating us from society. I soon had all contact with family, friends, and neighbours cut off. I was never allowed to leave the house unaccompanied, other than going to work in the woods. Every aspect of our life became «family secrets,» to be shared with NO ONE, on pain of death!

Some 35 years later, while visiting her in the hospital, her attending physician discretely pulled me aside into an empty room and closed the door.

Your life may be in danger, she told me. Your wife was seen and evaluated by a psychiatrist. He only had enough time to talk to her twice before she threw him out of her room and refused to see him again.

I was not particularly surprised at this. She hated psychiatrists and had refused to see any doctors for over 20 years.

She has been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, complicated with unspecified borderline-personality disorder, the doctor continued. As you know, her cancer is terminal. She has only months to live, but her worsening delusions could prompt her to try to take you with her.

I had been watching my back for decades. I had suffered indescribable forms of physical, psychological, emotional, and sexual abuse. I remember being sincerely loved one moment and vehemently hated the next. I could never be sure what to expect.

After speaking to the doctor, I did feel a great sense of relief that the long nightmare had an actual explanation and had not been «all my imagination» as Anna May had tried to convince me. I have since learned that it would be impossible to determine how many of her words and actions could be attributed to her illness or were her true feelings.

Please do not misunderstand. Very few cases of mental illness exhibit such extreme manifestations as I experienced. In fact, statistically, most patients diagnosed with a mental illness are more often the victims of crime than perpetrators.

If you or someone you know is struggling while dealing with the challenges of life, seek help. Do NOT try to keep those family secrets! Find someone to talk to.