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On Friday, May 3d, we were once more in Boston, our trip having netted us a tidy sum. Here I found my wife at Father Jackson's, and in a day or two a discussion commenced on the question of our future. Brother Benjamin was not satisfied with our plan of living together on the farm. Asa was opposed to it and it was not entirely agreeable to my wife. Judson and Abby agreed with me that it should be continued. I was a strong believer in the idea of a community, and so with me it was a question of principle. However, the decision was held in abeyance for the time.
The next week we all went home to Milford, where several weeks were spent in work on the farm. During this summer we erected what is known as the "Community Block," on the square in the village. It was four stories in height, with a hall in the upper part, which was at once devoted to the free meetings of the "Come-outers." On May 27th we went to Boston to attend the May meetings of the Anti-Slavery Society. The family was well represented at these meetings: Zephaniah, Joshua, Caleb, Jesse, Benjamin, Judson, John, Asa and Abby. We were all on the platform of Tremont Temple together. All the anti-slavery leaders were there. During our stay here we sang at a big temperance meeting on Boston Common, attended by at least twenty thousand people. The speakers included John B. Gough, Mr. Hawkins, the great Washingtonian
"Brother Benjamin was not satisfied": It's an interesting split that Judson, John, and Abby, who were away on concert tours for weeks at a time, favored a communal living arrangement at the Milford homestead, while Benjamin and Fanny, who were actually at home on the homestead most if not all of the time, opposed the notion.
"During this summer we erected what is known as the Community Block": In 1894, John W. Hutchinson said, "Our family erected a building near the stone bridge, opposite the Baptist Church, and dedicated a hall, naming it Liberty Hall. Here meetings were held. Free discussions were permitted. We sang of freedom, as we could not sing in our old Baptist Church." [John W. Hutchinson, in William B. Rotch, compiler, Celebration of the One Hundredth Anniversary of the Incorporation of Milford, New Hampshire, June 26, 1894 (Milford, NH: Cabinet Print [Shop], 1894), 51.] I have only the dimmest recollection of reading something about this building and its meeting hall in Ludlow Patton's Hutchinson Family Scrapbook. If you know anything about the uses and history of the building John is speaking of, please e-mail me by way of the contact link that appears near the bottom of the page.
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reformer from Baltimore, Gov. George N. Briggs and others. The temperance agitation in favor of moral suasion was then at its height. On the next evening there was another temperance meeting in the Representatives' chamber of the State-house, on Beacon Hill, at which the governor and others spoke. Our quartet sat in what is now the ladies' gallery of the old chamber, and sang at appropriate intervals.
At the last anti-slavery meeting of the week C. C. Burleigh presented a beautiful banner to Garrison, and eloquent speeches were made by each. There was a good deal of disorder, the disturbers sitting in different parts of Tremont Temple and hissing the speakers. The meeting ended in quite a flurry. Then we went back to our toil in Milford for a season.
I ought to quote N. P. Rogers' description of our singing at the [Massachusetts Antislavery Society] convention, from the Herald of Freedom, June, 1844:
. . . One word more - the Hutchinsons. No one will any longer tax me with hyperbole or exaggeration when I exult at these matchless anti-slavery songsters. They surpassed themselves at the convention. They came out with some new strains, and sung some that were not entirely new with prodigious and indescribable effect. Ames says it takes an orator to describe an orator, or to write his life. I say it would take musicians and music to describe these singers. Their outburst at the convention, in Jesse's celebrated "Get off the track," is absolutely indescribable in any words that can be penned. It represented the moral railroad in characters of living light and song, with all its terrible enginery and speed and danger. And when they came to the chorus-cry that gives name to the song - when they cried to the heedless pro-slavery multitude that were stupidly lingering on the track, and the engine "Liberator" coming hard upon them, under full steam and all speed, the Liberty Bell loud ringing, and they standing like deaf men right in its whirlwind path, - the way they cried "Get off the track," in defiance of all time and rule, was magnificent and sublime. They forgot their harmony, and shouted one after another, or all in confused outcry, like an alarmed multitude of spectators, about to witness a terrible railroad catastrophe. But I am trying to describe
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it. I should only say that it was indescribable. It was life - it was nature, transcending the musical staff, and the gamut, the minim and the semi-breve, and ledger lines. It was the cry of the people, into which their over-wrought and illimitable music had degenerated, and it was glorious to witness them alighting down again from their wild flight into the current of song, like so many swans upon the river from which they had soared, a moment, wildly into the air. The multitude who had heard them will bear me witness that they transcended the very province of mere music - which is, after all, like eloquence or like poetry, but one of the subordinate departments of humanity. It was exaggerated, sublimated, transcendent song. God be thanked that the Hutchinsons are in the anti-slavery movement - for their sakes as well as for ours! Their music would ruin them, but for the chastening influences of our glorious enterprise. It will now inspire all their genius and give it full play, and will guard them from the seductions of the flattering world, which, but for its protection, would make them a prey. I note them not to praise them. I am above that - as they are. I do it in exultation for the Cause, and for their admonition; though while they are Abolitionists they do not need it. Anti-slavery is a safe regulator of the strongest genius. I here take occasion to say, in defiance of all rule, that Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., is the most gifted songwriter of the times - so far as I know. None of our most approved poetry comes up to his, written in the hurley-burley of anti-slavery debate. It is, perhaps, owing to this and to the fact that he writes to sing rather than to read - writes under the influence of song - that the music precedes the poetry in his mind; that the words come at the call of the music, and are drafted into its service, or rather volunteer at its summons; that his poetry sings so much better than Pierpont's or Burleigh's or Lowell's or Whittier's or any of the bards. Burns wrote his immortal songs to match the tunes sent him by George Thompson. He couldn't sing like Jesse Hutchinson. I don't know as he could at all. His soul could, if his voice couldn't; and under its inspiration he poured forth his lays in songster verse. What songs he would have left us, if he could have written under such a spell of music as possesses the Hutchinsons! Jesse's songs remind me of him. "The Slave Mother" is hardly surpassed by anything of Burns'. I only mention it to call the attention of the people to what is going on in the anti-slavery field. They'll all miss it if they don't come there.
As I look back upon the years of professional life no fact gives me greater satisfaction than this, that no matter how great were the artistic triumphs of the Hutchinsons, they were always more than ready to leave their
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public careers for the sweeter joys of domesticity. One day we would be receiving the plaudits of the multitude; the next wending our way back to our fields. On our long trips, I find my diary contains constant expressions of longing for home and the dear ones left there. We placed the strongest emphasis on the joy and beauty of home, and to-day it seems to me that no institution exists which so distinctly bears the marks of the divine purpose and has a more sure promise of the blessing of the All-Father than the family. In this age of over-organization it is well to remember that the first, if not the only organization God ordained, was the family.
In June we went to a great anti-slavery meeting in Concord, where those present had the privilege of songs from Jesse, Judson, John, Asa, Abby, David, Noah, Caleb, Joshua, Benjamin, Rhoda and Fanny.
Then came haying-time. A regiment of Hutchinsons went into the fields for a family haying-bee - David with his tribe of boys and hired man; Noah with his crutch and cane, doing what he could; Caleb with his man; and Cousin William Marvel, Zephaniah, Jesse, Benny, Judson, Isaac, George, John and Asa.
On July 14th Parker Pillsbury preached to us at a "free meeting" in the old meeting-house. Judson tried to get Rev. Mr. Richardson to announce the event at the regular church service in the morning, but his request was refused. On the following Saturday William Lloyd Garrison and Francis Jackson came to our house for a stay of a day or two. On the following day the "Come-outers" enjoyed a free meeting with them in the old meeting-house. According to my diary, Mr. Garrison spoke at five o'clock, on "the Sabbath," and proved to my mind that it was as good as any other day. On the following day they departed, Asa driving them as far as Nashua.
"In June we went to a great anti-slavery meeting": It was common enough for Caleb, Joshua, Jesse, Benjamin, Judson, John, Fanny, Asa, and Abby Hutchinson to sing at antislavery meetings. It's quite interesting here to see the names of David, Noah, and Rhoda among those who sang at the June antislavery gathering in Concord, New Hampshire.
"A regiment of Hutchinsons went into the fields": Noah Hutchinson is described elsewhere as athletic, so one might wonder why he was getting about with a crutch and cane and for how long. I'm drawing a blank on the name, George. Dale Cockrell had reason to believe that this may refer to a hired farm worker, which seems quite likely. George Bartlett, Isaac's brother, seems like a possibility. George Marvell, a family connection, might be another. The sudden appearance of the name, George, could be of some interest because, in late May, Caleb and Laura Hutchinson named their newborn boy Caleb George Mason Hutchinson. He was ever after commonly known as George.
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"During the latter part of the month [July 1844] I made a trip to Boston and Lynn. One day I spent fishing at Bass Point, Nahant, with such congenial spirits as Garrison and Pierpont. We took a sail-boat from Lynn, and enjoyed a fish mess, with Jesse as chief cook. Phillips came over from his cottage and dined with us. On another day twelve hundred of the finest spirits of the age went to Hingham for a great open-air convention, Garrison, Phillips, Douglass, Clapp, Charles C. Burleigh, Charles Lenox Remond, George Bradburn, Parker Pillsbury, Robert Purvis of Philadelphia, Stephen Foster, Abby Kelley, Francis Jackson, Edmund Quincy and others spoke. The quartet, Judson, John, Asa and Abby, with Jesse, did the singing for them. It was a picnic, and each one was supposed to bring enough food for himself and his neighbor. As many came for the loaves and fishes, the menu turned out to be rather slim. It was easily perceived that there was not going to be nearly enough for such a company; so the committee in charge of the tables set about finding any supplies that had been held back. It happened that I had brought my trunk, in which was my violin in its box, with me, and as the most safe place, had left it on the steamboat which had been chartered for the occasion. As soon as it was seen, it was surmised that it was full of eatables, and it was at once transported to the tables, to be opened if it was found that the bill-of-fare was falling short. I knew nothing of what had happened, until standing at the tables, looking vainly for something to assuage my hunger, I observed a man at it with a cold chisel. Before I could reach him, he had opened it and drawn forth the violin. I remarked that he would find nothing more appetizing than catgut and hair there. The managers of the affair, at Mr. Jackson's suggestion, made good the damage.
"On another day twelve hundred of the finest spirits": This refers to a celebration of the anniversary of West Indian Emancipation, which convened at Hingham, Massachusetts, on August 2, 1844. Speaking of this event, Hutchinson Family biographer Carol Brink said that "for sheer comedy [it] would be difficult to surpass." She loved this story; and though I can add a few details, at this point it may be best to let her account stand as is. For great reading, see Carol Brink, Harps in the Wind: The Story of the Singing Hutchinsons (New York: Macmillan, 1947), 91-93.
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At sundown we were packed, several hundred of us, on the boat, and it started for Boston. Alas! the captain had missed his reckoning; the tide, instead of coming in, was going out, and soon we were stuck fast on the flats. There was nothing to be done but wait for the tide to come in again, although this was rather hard for people who were not only weary but who had been fed on little more than mental pabulum all day. But there we stayed, until nearly dawn. To make matters worse, the boat was so crowded that it was impossible to find sufficient seats, or other means of repose. I managed to find a loose cabin door, which seemed to be serving no very useful purpose, tore it off, and after placing blocks of wood under it, made it serve as a seat for six other weary ones beside myself. Finally, in utter exhaustion, I lay down under a table and tried to sleep, but the moving feet of the people sitting at the table soon demonstrated this to be anything but a bed of roses. Passing out towards the engine-room, I sighted my good friend Francis Jackson sweetly sleeping high on a pile of fire-wood. Meanwhile, Brother Jesse, with Frederick Douglass and Henry Clapp, were the life of the sleepy company. Deciding that there was no possibility of rest and small prospect of either supper or breakfast, they resolved to make the best of it, and so skylarked all over the boat. Robert Purvis was by the stairs in a sleeping position, when suddenly some one grabbed him by the nose. He woke and mildly protested against the undue familiarity. "Oh, beg pardon," said the intruder, "I thought you were a chair!" Jesse organized meetings here and there at which resolutions of the nature of solace for the inconvenience experienced were passed: "Resolved, that we had our usual quiet night's rest." "Resolved, that we have had
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our breakfast," etc. Mr. Garrison viewed these performances with some disapproval, and quietly warned these young men against injuring their personal influence by too much levity; he could not forget that the party came to Hingham on serious business. But hard times and good times have an end, and at last we reached Boston, ate our breakfasts, secured some sleep, and soon the impression of everything but the good time we had had passed off.
This excursion was soon followed by one even more pleasurable, when I got my first impressions of the beauty of the White Hills.
In August I secured a big stage-coach, hired a man to drive the four horses which drew it (I saw this man, Granville Turner, hale and hearty in 1894), and made up a big family party for a trip through the White Mountains. There were twelve of us in the coach, besides several others in single carriages. We took the large tent belonging to the band, in which I had an interest, and on the first day proceeded as far as Concord. We pitched our tent, and gave a concert in the old North Church in the evening to a great concourse of people. Mr. Rogers' three daughters, Frances, Caroline and Ellen, joined our party at this point, as did John K. French, William M. White and Mary Lincoln.
After an enjoyable ride, we reached Sanbornton. We pitched our tent by a farm-house, and the men of the party used it for a dormitory, while the ladies slept in the house. We appointed a foraging committee to secure butter, milk, eggs and other supplies of the farmers, as they proceeded by different routes.
The scenery was sublime, the weather good and our spirits fine. The next morning, with cheers for the "Old Granite State," the farmers, and others, we
"Mr. Rogers' three daughters, Frances, Caroline and Ellen": Evidence exists suggesting that John W. Hutchinson maintained ties to members of the Rogers family down through the years. It seems likely, too, that other Hutchinsons did. Rogers family history can make for an interesting line of research.
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started for Plymouth, where we arrived at noon, finding our family friend, N. P. Rogers, waiting for us. We stopped at the house of his brother John, a physician, and in the evening gave a concert in the village to a good house. Writing to the Herald of Freedom, Mr. Rogers spoke thus of this concert:
The concert was in the Court House - a fine room for music, but too small for the audience - on a dogday night. It was crowded. Many people came in from the surrounding towns. The Hutchinsons have never sung to a more intelligent and tasteful audience, of any size, in any place. And they never sang more freely, or in freer spirit and strain. The air was somewhat oppressive and non-elastic, but they were in capital spirits. Some of their songs were absolutely wonderful. I wish I had time to particularize. I want to say a good many things about that little concert - to me the most interesting they can ever give. But I have no time. I was glad to see my old and venerated friend Judge Livermore present, at the age of near fourscore - though it was several miles from his residence, and a dark evening. And when they sang Longfellow's "Excelsior," and Judson sent down that chorus word, from the height of the high Alps young genius was scaling, "It is your motto word, young men," remarked the judge, enthusiastically, and in his own peculiar, "excelsior" style, as rare as the music he was lauding. But I am interrupted, and must close.
Saturday we spent in the woods at Lincoln, trouting, with good success. On Sunday, at noon, we reached Littleton, our journey taking us through the Franconia Notch, a trip we greatly appreciated. We had a fine view of the "Old Man of the Mountain." A row upon Pemigewassett Lake was also taken. In the afternoon there was an anti-slavery meeting at Littleton;
Monday we fished for trout in the Ammanoosuc River. On that evening we gave a concert, and the following day went to Fabyan's. The hotel was hardly as
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large as at the present time, and there were no accommodations for us, so the tent was brought into requisition once more. The eight women of the party were provided with one room in the hotel. The next day thirteen of us ascended Mount Washington, on horses trained by Mr. Fabyan for the purpose. We had a good time but a hard one. It was the roughest route I had ever travelled in my life. It was nine miles from the hotel to the top, and the ascent took about four hours. It was a romantic sight to see some twenty-four men and women on horseback, following one another single file over the rocks and crags, logs, ruts and ditches until they reached an altitude so high that trees or shrubs refused to grow. Then we left earth behind and went into the clouds, and at last reached the summit. I was the first of the Hutchinson party to reach the goal, excepting Mr. White, who walked the whole distance, up and back, eighteen miles. The guide refused to let the horses go beyond a certain point, but I had the reins in my own hands and urged my steed to the tip-top. It seemed poetic enough to be among the clouds, but it felt chilly, and after eating our lunch and singing a song, we came down. The clouds were so troublesome that we only caught one glimpse of the Saco River winding its way through the valley towards North Conway and Fryeburg. A severe headache spoiled my enjoyment of the view. When we reached the foot of the mountain, which was descended without accident, we had some sport racing our horses on the plains, and when we came to the travelled road we formed ourselves into a band, and so rode singing to the hotel. We were stiff enough when we dismounted from our horses and, of course, were a laughing-stock for those who had remained behind. I was very sick that night.
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"The next day we started on our return trip. Our bill for one and two-thirds days' board at the hotel was $73. We took dinner at the old Crawford House, near the Willey House in the Notch, and that night pitched our tent thirty-five miles from Fayban's, in North Conway, and in the evening gave a free concert to a delighted company which gathered outside. Then next day we went to Centre Harbor, stopping on the way in the woods of Tamworth for a picnic dinner. Mr. White made a temperance and anti-slavery address to the honest farmers who gathered about. The following day we spent rowing upon and swimming in Lake Winnepisogee. We returned through Plymouth, gave a concert at Sanbornton Bridge on our way to Concord, spent the last night of our journey at Goffstown and reached Milford August 14th. I was ailing most of the time on the return trip, and so could not enjoy it as much as I otherwise might. In those days I believed in hydropathy and had caught a serious cold from a superfluity of shower baths.
In the Milford column of the New Hampshire Republican, a few years since, appeared a reminiscence of this White Mountain trip, from a writer singing his name "E.M.S."
In 1844 the celebrated Hutchinson family of singers decided on a pleasure trip through the White Mountains. In that year Granville Turner was driving the stage between Milford and Nashua, and as he possessed the confidence of Jesse Hutchinson, the father of the noted family, he was delegated to draw the ribbons over a double span of horses and guide the Hutchinsons on their journey. Mr. Turner relates, that as he sat, reins and whip in hand, before the door of the Hutchinson home, with the brothers and sister about him, the father, Jesse Hutchinson, appeared upon the threshold and with raised hand gave into Mr. Turner's keeping his sons and daughter, and bade him to return them to the parental roof in safety. Mr. Turner solemnly replied that he would; and he did. On the journey many amusing incidents
"We returned through Plymouth": John W. Hutchinson's account of this trip, which began on August 7, got the party home on August 14, an impossibly early date. Dale Cockrell calculated the Hutchinson party's return date as August 21, which is far more likely. [Excelsior: Journals of the Hutchinson Family Singers, 1842-1846 (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1989), 390.] Asa B. Hutchinson referred to this adventure as the family's White Mountain tramp, and he said it was one of the happiest times he ever had. [Excelsior, 293-294.]
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occurred. All told, the party comprised eighteen persons. Not far from one mountain hotel they halted, and fished and sang and put up their canvas tent. Later, a stage-driver coming into this hotel was asked if he had seen the Hutchinson singers, whom they heard were on the way. His reply was, 'No, but I passed a band of tented Arabs who were fishing and singing not far away.' None of the listeners imagined the people referred to, to be the Hutchinsons. Later the 'Arabs' came driving to the hotel, singing, 'We're a band of brothers from the old Granite State,' and announced their identity, but the populace did not believe them. They entered the hotel in their rough and ready rigs, procured rooms, and when evening came, they appeared in costume to the wonderment of all; and when they sang, they captivated and charmed and took the mountain house by storm.
The reference to father's solicitude for us is a reminder of Parker Pillsbury's description of a visit made to the old homestead at about this period. Milford was during these years one of the most pronounced anti-slavery communities in New Hampshire, and frequent conventions were held in the old church and other assembly rooms, as noted elsewhere in this history. On these occasions the members of the family quartet and Brother Jesse would come home, if possible, and share in the exercises, while the home would be opened to visiting speakers. Pillsbury says on one occasion, he, with
|
Our father, we wish you well. When our Lord calls, we hope you will be mentioned in the promised land. |
To this prayer the father in sonorous, but grave and earnest tones, responded:
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|
My children, I wish you well. When our Lord calls, I trust you will be mentioned in the promised land. |
Both Pillsbury and Rogers were deeply affected by this ceremony, which, in the Hutchinson homestead was but the outflow of the sentiment of respect felt by every son and daughter for our sire, and something rarely overlooked in our coming and going.
September 11, 1844, the quartet, with Zephaniah as advance agent, started on another season of concert work. Our first stop was at Manchester, where we sang to twelve hundred people. The next night we sang in Nashua, taking nearly twice as much money as at Manchester. Then Brother Zephaniah went to Newburyport to arrange a concert, while we went on to Lynn, where a few days were pleasantly spent with old friends. On the 16th we reached Newburyport and gave a concert in the evening, six hundred being in the hall. While there we had as callers Rev. Samuel J. May, who desired us to stay over a day and sing at his anti-slavery meeting the following night, and Hannah F. Gould, the poetess, who consented to write us some songs. Mr. May found the native town of Garrison rather indifferent to anti-slavery. It had not then got to the point of raising a monument to its distinguished son. We were unable to stop and sing for Mr. May and the next day were in Portsmouth, where we had the pleasure of witnessing the launching of a man-of-war at the navy yard. Our Portsmouth concert was an artistic and a numerical success. Our next stop was at Saco; our house was poor, and we determined to leave the town out in our future trips.
On the 21st we reached Portland. We stopped at the home of our friend Oliver Dennett and had a most
"We stopped at the home of our friend Oliver Dennett": The name of Oliver Dennett turns up from time to time in Hutchinson Family records, and his name also appears elsewhere in connection with many New England social reform meetings. In general, though, there appears to be a real shortage of information about Dennett's life and his place in various social reform movements.
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delightful stay. We gave two concerts, with good audiences, and at the close of the second were driven to the boat and steamed away for Augusta. By this time we thought ourselves pretty well "down East," but were told by the inhabitants that we must go on to Bangor before reaching that region.
Our concert at Augusta was successful. We were importuned to repeat it, but concluded to give one in Gardiner, near by, instead. The concert here was not numerically a success, however. Our next concert was given in Hallowell. There was a strong anti-slavery sentiment in this place. During this trip we brothers concluded to exercise as often as possible at bowling, and had many curious experiences finding alleys and making bargains for their use. In one place we had rolled the balls but a few minutes when the profanity and drunkenness in the place so disgusted us that we fled. At Bath we closed our concert as usual with "The Old Granite State," but immediately there were calls for "Get Off the Track." We sung it, and it was received with cheers such as we seldom heard from pro-slavery people. We were convinced that people would take in song what they would not in any other way.
October 1st we reached Brunswick. While at dinner in our hotel we noticed a man at another table who looked like John B. Gough. It proved to be the great lecturer, who was to speak in Bath that evening. He told us his stage was to start at once and bade us good-by. In a few minutes the stage came rattling back and Gough and his wife stepped out, as if they had forgotten something. He told us he thought the opportunity of spending an afternoon with us too good to lose, and so had come back. We had a jolly time until five o'clock, when he took the coach for Bath.
"By this time we thought ourselves pretty well down East": This would seem to be a reference to the Hutchinsons' comic song, "Away Down East."
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That evening we sang in a church, and the next day took a twenty-six-mile journey in a stage-coach to Portland.
We stayed several days in Portland, singing at a great anti-slavery meeting. This began in the City-hall, but after a day the meetings were stopped by the mayor, who refused to allow the hall to be used longer for such a purpose. This caused the loss of an evening, which the leading Abolitionists improved by a social gathering at the home of the Dennetts, where we were again stopping. Then Concert Hall was secured, and the convention proceeded. A Southern slave-holder made trouble at nearly every session by engaging in discussion with Mr. Garrison. On the last night of the convention, Sunday, October 6th, he, with a prominent Portland poet named John Neal, attempted to introduce resolutions declaring the poor, despised Abolitionists traitors to God and religion, Christianity and their country. Mr. Garrison met them with his strongest arguments. Finally, the confusion was so great that Mr. Garrison, in despair at making himself heard, called upon us to sing. We rose to give "The Slave Mother's Lament," facing as disorderly a gathering as I ever saw. Soon all was as still as death. We never had better attention. The audience was melted by our song, and the meeting continued without further interruption until a very late hour. We were so excited by the event that it was long after midnight before we retired. Mr. Neal ever after showed himself a kind, helpful and sympathizing friend.
The next day we went again to Portsmouth and from there to Newburyport, thence to Dover, N.H., giving successful concerts in each place. From there we went to Exeter, and thence to Haverhill, giving well-attended
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entertainments. We stayed over a Sunday in Haverhill, making a trip to Bradford and Georgetown, taking dinner with friends at the latter place, and returning, spent the night with friends in the former town.
Our next objective point was Andover, a conservative, but friendly town, where we greatly enjoyed the society of an old friend, Mr. Clark. A fine audience attended our concert. The next day we went to Woburn, where a good assembly listened to our songs in the town hall. The day after was spent with the Jacksons in Boston, and on the day following we were in Lowell, where our concert was given to a large audience in the Universalist church. On the following day we were again in old Milford, and stayed over Sunday. An anti-slavery convention was in progress in the hall, with Abby Kelley, Stephen Foster, Parker Pillsbury and a Miss Hitchcock as speakers. The meetings on Sunday were so largely attended that it was necessary to adjourn from the hall to the old meeting-house. We sang at each session. Monday we spent in visiting our brothers, and on the following day were back in Boston. This week we gave a concert in the Melodeon to the largest Boston Audience we had ever yet had. The Atlas came out that afternoon with another diatribe against "Get Off the Track," which we were announced to sing, calling it "vile stuff." On Friday we went to Providence, and found politics raging, the Polk and Dallas campaign being in progress. Our concert that evening was largely attended and the audience enthusiastically demanded a repetition; but, alas! we had advertised for "one night only," and kept our word. On Sunday we heard a sermon by Rev. Francis Wayland, president of Brown University. The next day we started for Worcester, stopping at Mendon on our way
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to spend a very pleasant evening and night with an old acquaintance, Mr. Crooker. We reached Worcester Tuesday, October 29th, after a dreary stage-coach trip through the mud and rain. An overflowing audience greeted us that evening. The next day we set out for Springfield, fortunately meeting our friends, the Goughs, at the depot for a brief interview. At Springfield we heard several debates between George Bradburn and David Lee Child (husband of Lydia Maria Child) on slavery. Mr. Child had rather the worst of the argument. He believed Abolitionists should vote for Henry Clay; Mr. Bradburn did not. Our concert in this place was a success. On Saturday we reached Albany, where we found politics even more exciting than at Providence, and renewed our acquaintance with our good genius Mr. Newland, who was our friend in need in this city two years before. He believed that the Bible sanctioned slavery, and gave me a book which sought to prove it. On Sunday we called on Mrs. Mott, where we were glad to peruse copies of the Liberator and Herald of Freedom.
Election day came during our stay in Albany. It was an exciting time. One day Oliver Johnson came up from New York, and we had a pleasant time in his society. We gave two concerts to crowded houses, one hundred being turned away from the last, and meanwhile sandwiched-in a concert at Troy. Tuesday, November 12th, we gave a concert at Schenectady, where, two years before we were compelled to give a free show or nothing. On the 13th we sung in Utica, and went to a fire (a drug-store being burned) after the concert was over; and at two o'clock the next morning took the train for Syracuse. Here we gave a big concert. Before it commenced a man came to the door-tender
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and asked the price of tickets. He was told fifty cents. "By George!" said he, "I never pay over two shillings." We told him he could go in for that, and if he did not think the concert worth it, he need not pay any more. At the close of the programme, he went to the door-keeper and gave him the other two shillings, saying he would not cheat us. Rev. Samuel J. May was at the concert and before we departed we had a call from John A. Collins of the Community.
Our next stop was at Auburn, where we visited the State Prison, seeing seven hundred convicts at dinner. Our concert was given in the museum, to a
good house. Then we went to Geneva, and thence on to Rochester and Batavia, and
reached Buffalo November 22d. The trip from Batavia was very picturesque,
although I missed a good deal of it because of my absorption in the works of
There had been a great storm, and its effects were everywhere visible. A big steamer was landed high and dry on the shores of Lake Erie. Judson and I went down to see her. On our way we observed a little old house the lower story of which had been destroyed, all except the corner-posts, by the winds and waves. I noticed smoke coming out of the chimney, although it seemed impossible such a structure could be inhabited. We went on, but not being satisfied, returned, and noticing a ladder, crawled up, and knocked
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on a door lying horizontally on the floor. A delicate woman, with a half-starved baby in her arms answered our summons. The woman was thinly clad and almost frozen, for the tempest had washed nearly all her clothing away, and she was without means to get more. The next day, with Abby, we took them some clothing, paid their rent, and gave them money to move to a more secure dwelling.
Buffalo was the extreme western limit of our tour, but, much as we desired to return to home and loved ones, we felt that we must see Niagara Falls first. For some days before we took the trip we were filled with pleasurable anticipations. On November 26th we started. The cars in which we made the journey were mean, cold and uncomfortable. We stopped at a temperance house at the falls and warmed ourselves, and then went to see the cataract. It didn't look as we expected, and we were so nearly frozen that we cared very little how it did look. We bought some souvenirs and then went back to our hotel, and thence returned to Buffalo. Taking a summer trip to them in later years gave me quite a different impression.
On our return tour home we revisited many of the cities we had so recently seen, and all our concerts were successful. But there was a shadow over us all the way. My brother Judson had many of the qualities of the seer. He was very gloomy during our stay in Buffalo and afterward. It was his regular assignment during our trips to write letters to the folks at home. One day in Rochester I happened to pass behind him as he was writing a letter to father and mother, and glanced over his shoulder at the sheet. He had drawn the outline of a coffin on the margin of the paper. I stopped in dismay, and as I stood there he drew another, the coffins
"My brother Judson had many of the qualities": Eyewitness accounts exist of Judson J. Hutchinson performing feats of magic - not doing magic tricks, but performing actual magic. It seems quite likely that his brother John intended this remark to be taken literally.
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being head to head. I do not know what he wrote in the letter. We were not in the habit of reading one another's missives, and none of us said anything to him about it. From that time, though we were constantly meeting dear friends, were having the highest success in our concerts, and were seeing sights to be remembered for a lifetime, we were full of forebodings. I had my own personal reasons for anxiety, and in addition was an indefinable fear of an unknown sorrow.
Our last concert was given in Worcester. We arrived a day early, and in the evening went to hear Ole Bull play. In the language of my diary, "He played me mad." But great as his success was, he had an audience only half as large as that which gathered to hear the Hutchinsons on the following night.
Friday, December 4th [actually, Friday, December 6], we reached Milford once more. We were told in the village that Brother Benjamin and Isaac Bartlett (Sister Rhoda's husband), were sick. We found them so, but able to be about the house. On the following Wednesday Isaac was so very sick that Dr. Shaw was called. On Friday Brother Benjamin grew suddenly worse, and Dr. Shaw was also called to him. On Saturday, Jesse and Andrew, who had been summoned, came to Milford to bear their share in nursing the sick men. On Tuesday evening, December 17th, my wife gave birth to our first-born, Henry. As he heard the first cry of the little infant, Brother Benny awaking from his stupor, said, "One comes into the world; another goes out."
During the excitement following the birth, Sister Rhoda came hurriedly in, and said Isaac was dying. I went to him, and he was bidding father and mother and the brothers good-by. He lingered, however, for several days; and meanwhile Benjamin grew rapidly worse of
"On Tuesday evening, December 17th, my wife gave birth": Henry J. Hutchinson grew up to be a real character, and he will play a significant part in Story of the Hutchinsons. Another notable 1844 birth was that of Marietta Caroline Bartlett to Rhoda and Isaac Bartlett. Marietta is little more than mentioned in Story of the Hutchinsons. But in the family's later years - when known by her married name, Marietta Loveridge - she would be important in the lives of Abby Hutchinson Patton and her husband, Ludlow Patton.
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the same disease, typhoid fever. Isaac died on Sunday, December 22d, and on Monday Benjamin bid farewell to earth.
As I was standing by his bedside, he raised his eyes, with a look of intensity, and said: "Victory, victory; this is a day of victory." These words I afterwards used as a closing strain of a song which we have sung many times at funerals and other occasions, entitled "A Brother is Dead."
Meanwhile Asa became very sick, and with the shadow resting over the bereaved household he, too, calmly prepared for death. He had the same disease, but ultimately recovered.
Three hours before his death Brother Benjamin sang a farewell song with Jesse, who was watching with him. The double funeral of the brothers-in-law was held from the old home on the following Tuesday. As I passed through the hall and saw the two caskets, head to head, instantly the recollection of Judson's letter, written in Rochester, flashed through my mind. It was a touching funeral service. We were all there, excepting our sick brother Asa. We realized all that human skill could do had been done to save the lives of these two loving, earnest, whole-souled brothers, but that God had called them and they had cheerfully obeyed the summons. Rev. John Richardson of the Baptist church conducted the service. Brother Jesse's words I can never forget. He said: "We have adjourned our family meeting to Heaven. Blessed be God!" The family, with broken, but hope-inspired voices, joined in songs of love and heaven. It was the first break in the family circle since most of us had come to maturity. Alas! how frequently came the broken ties afterward!
The demise of these our brothers led to the dissolution
"As I was standing by his bedside": A daguerreotype of Benjamin Hutchinson is known to have existed. It can be seen tucked into Noah Hutchinson's vest in the picture of ten Hutchinson brothers in Carol Brink's Harps in the Wind. Do you know where a copy of that daguerreotype may be found? If you do, please e-mail us by way of the contact link near the bottom of the page.
"These words I afterwards used as a closing strain": While this is true as far as it goes, "A Brother Is Dead," first line: "Hark! what is that note, So mournful and slow," was most closely associated with Joshua Hutchinson.
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of the community. As has previously been stated, the home with its eight large rooms, eighteen by sixteen feet square, and the farm of one hundred and sixty acres were given to the six younger children - Benjamin, Judson, John, Asa, Rhoda and Abby, on condition that they should take care of mother. Father had a great idea of doing missionary work as a preacher. He had the farm where all the children but Abby and Elizabeth were born, and also a house in the village, and to his mind there could be no reason why he should not deed the house to us. As a matter of fact, it may be stated, he did not preach, and it was very rare indeed that he was away from home over a night. When we formed our community, it was with an idea of "settling down," and farming; but as time wore on, the attractions of our life of song were too strong, both artistically and financially, so we started out once more. All our earnings as a quartet, however, went into the common treasury; it was understood Benny and Rhoda had as much interest in it as either of the others. A great deal of our money was loaned out at interest. Two thousand dollars was expended in improvements on the farm. Five thousand dollars was invested in the Community Block. There was no bank in town, so the rest of our money was put in a shot-bag, which was in turn put in an earthern pot, and that was buried under the cellar arch. We kept father informed of its location, and made him understand that whenever he wanted money, all he had to do was to go and dig it up.
Meanwhile Brother Judson, Sister Rhoda and I married. This complicated matters, and made life as a community more difficult. Then the older brothers began to hint that it was not quite fair to deprive them of their interest in the farm. The death of Isaac made no
"Meanwhile Brother Judson, Sister Rhoda and I married": The Isaac Bartlett whose death is reported in these pages, just above, was Rhoda's husband. The relationship between Judson and Sally did not endure. Judson J. Hutchinson married Jerusha Peabody Hutchinson, a distant relative, on August 7, 1843.
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difference in Rhoda's status, of course, and the death of Benjamin, as his father was his only legal heir, should have made none. But it brought matters to a head in such a way that after many conferences it was deemed best to make a division, and give the community plan up. So far as the house and farm were concerned, the deed had never been recorded, so that all that was necessary was to destroy it, but there had been such an increase in personal property that an auction was necessary before there could be a division of that.
[1845]
It was a great trial to me to give up the life in the old home. It not only meant a relinquishing of a form of life in which I fully believed, and the partial separation from the brothers and sisters whom I so dearly loved, but it meant a farewell to the home of my boyhood, to which I was tenderly attached. However, we did not separate at once. Judson went to housekeeping in the "milk room," Fanny and I in the sitting-room, while the rest of the children kept house with the old folks. Our lives were very quiet for a couple of months. Domestic cares occupied most of our time. On February 18th [1845] we gave a concert at Wilton. Prior to that the whole family of brothers with Abby made a trip to Boston and sung at the anti-slavery meetings in the Representatives chamber of the State-house. Our hearts were heavy as we thought of our brother, with us but a short year before. We also made a trip to Fitchburg, and sung at a meeting where Wendell Phillips was the speaker.
During the last of February we started on a concert tour, first singing in Manchester to a crowded house; and then, going back to Milford long enough to get my wife and little Henry, we went to Lowell, where a successful concert was given. Leaving Fanny there, we
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went to Boston, where a few days were pleasantly spent. March 10th we went on to Providence, and on the 12th gave a concert. While here we visited Governor Dorr, in prison for rebellion. He was painting fans. Another concert was given in Providence on the 14th to a crowded house, though it was stormy. After a concert in Pawtucket, we went to New York, arriving March 17th. Here we had a triumphant, though rather stormy experience. The Express warned us we should lose our popularity if we sang such songs as "Get Off the Track," and our friends advised us not to sing it. New York, as well as the rest of the country, was very tender on the subject of slavery at this time. The blows of the Abolitionists were beginning to tell. But a warning in those days came to us in the similitude of a command. As long as nothing was said, we could take our choice; but if we were told we must not sing a song that expressed our convictions, we then felt that, come victory or defeat, we must cry aloud and spare not, and the song was sung, with a serene sense that God would help us to do our duty. Well, our first concert came off in Niblo's, on the 19th. We gave a second on the 24th, and two days later sang in Palmer's Opera House. When we sang "Get Off the Track," the audience hissed; then some began to cheer, and there was a tug of war; finally the cheers prevailed. Our friend Henry Dennison was in the audience, and threw a request for a song, attached to a copper cent. It hit my violin, and as many thought it a stone, a good deal of unnecessary indignation was shown. We went into the ante-room, and waited during the uproar until we feared that it would be said that we were hissed off the stage. Then we went back. The hissing continued, and also the cheers; but finally the cheers triumphed,
"The Express warned us we should lose our popularity": Since John W. Hutchinson's stories are often quite dramatic, it's surprising when he is less dramatic than most other informants. Here we have a case in point. Accounts generally agree that Hutchinson Family friends thought Jesse, Judson, John, Asa, and Abby were in serious danger of physical harm, if they were to sing "Get Off the Track!" at their opening concert in New York. We have at least two tellings of the story from Abby Hutchinson Patton, who took some of what was said and written at the time to be death threats against the singers. Sister Abby reported that friends of the Hutchinsons flocked to this concert in great numbers to protect the group, should matters turn violent.
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and we were able to sing our next song, "My Mother's Bible." Henry John Sharp, an English reformer, was present, and was very indignant at the treatment we received. This noble man, who wrote many songs for us, was a frequent attendant at our concerts, and always would bring a fine bouquet for Abby.
Several more concerts were given in New York and Brooklyn. Instead of references to applause, I find such entries as, "Not much hissing," in my diaries. April 4th we gave our last concert, at Niblo's, and five hundred were turned away for lack of room, which showed to what extent the prophecy of the Express that we should lose our popularity had proven true. During this stay in the metropolis, we saw a good deal of our valued friends George P. Morris and Mrs. Lydia Maria Child.
April 7th we sang in Philadelphia, and on the 9th sang again in Musical Fund Hall, to as many people as could get in. We stopped again in New York on our return, and during this stay visited Sing Sing, and sang to the convicts. When we sang "My Mother's Bible" to the female convicts, every one was in tears. After concerts in the city and Brooklyn, our finale was given in the Broadway Tabernacle. Returning, I went to Lowell, where my wife was waiting me, stayed over a Sunday, and then went to Boston, where two concerts were given.
May 5th we were all in Milford once more, and most of the time for a few months was devoted to the pleasant duties of a farmer's life. Asa and Abby put in a few months' schooling in the academy in Hancock. Judson and I worked on the land, made soap, butter, pickles; we fished and hunted, put in our quota of time on the highways, and altogether had a happy time.
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On June 4th we attended an anti-slavery convention in the old town-hall in Concord [New Hampshire]. It was a stormy time. Pillsbury, Foster, Phillips, Douglass and others debated, until words waxed so hot that Garrison, who took no part, left the hall. The main trouble was over the Herald of Freedom. The paper was edited by
"The main trouble was over the Herald of Freedom": One of our regular e-mail correspondents suggests that the best source of information regarding this troubling incident is in Stacey M. Robertson's Parker Pillsbury: Radical Abolitionist, Male Feminist (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2000). I haven't seen Robertson's book yet, but I have found our correspondent's advice to be carefully considered and highly reliable.
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and desertion by his friends. His health gave way and he survived but a few years after. We held aloof from participation in all this trouble. Our friends were arrayed on either side, and we said nothing. When the debate waxed too warm for comfort, we would put in a song, which seemed to smooth things over somewhat.
During this spring Jesse purchased High Rock in Lynn, and this in after years became the home of several of the Hutchinsons.
Meanwhile, we were thinking of Europe. It had been Jesse's idea to have the whole family go into concerting, but the death of Benjamin changed that plan. Early in August we had a pleasant tour through New Hampshire towns and then went to Lynn, intending to have a few weeks of rest by the seashore. But our plans were suddenly altered, as the next chapter will show.
Notes by Alan Lewis
| John Wallace Hutchinson. Story of the Hutchinsons (Tribe of Jesse). 2 vols. Compiled and Edited by Charles E. Mann, With an Introduction by Frederick Douglass. Boston: Lee and Shepard. 1896. |
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Behold the day of promise comes, full of inspiration The blessed day by prophets sung for the healing of the nation Old midnight errors flee away, they soon will all be gone While heavenly angels seem to say the good time's coming on
The good time, the good time, the good time's coming on The good time, the good time, the good time's coming on |
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