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Story of the Hutchinsons,  Vol. 1:   Chapter 6, "A Good Time Coming," pp. 221-270.

Soon after our return from Europe an incident occurred which well illustrates the peculiar political and social conditions of the time, and indicates how necessary was our work of arousing the public conscience to a sense of its inhuman treatment of the despised and down-trodden black man, even though in so doing we encountered a form of social ostracism, and risked the loss of popularity and money.

I had invited Frederick Douglass to dine with me in Boston, at the old Pearl Street House. Arriving a little ahead of him, but fully persuaded that he would come, I tipped up a chair by my side at the table, and commenced my dinner. Perhaps I was two-thirds through, when I descried his familiar figure at the door. Immediately rising, I beckoned to him to come to me, and seated him at my elbow. At once a hundred chairs went back with a bang, and every guest, excepting ourselves,

"At once a hundred chairs went back with a bang":   John's telling of his stories could be quite dramatic. That's one reason why his short, understated account of a late-1846 incident in Philadelphia is a wonder. The events of December 1846  -  the contemporary accounts of which actually ran on and on  -  set up 1847 to be quite unproductive for the Hutchinsons as far as giving concerts goes; and Story of the Hutchinsons polishes off that year in just a few pages. Yet it was during the 1846-1847 concert season that the Hutchinsons introduced one of Jesse's most entertaining productions, "The Spider and the Fly."  Some of the best of the family's songs which are dated 1847 include "Jamie's on the Stormy Sea" by Bernard Covert, "Old High Rock" by Jesse and Judson, and "There Must Be Something Wrong," an Isaac Baker Woodbury composition that was most closely associated with Joshua Hutchinson.  "Oh Carry Me Back," one of the most unusual Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., originals, may date from 1847 or possibly 1848. Asa B. Hutchinson married Elizabeth B. Chace in 1847; and the most notable birth that year, at least as far as the singing group was concerned, may be that of John and Fanny's daughter, Viola. So clearly 1847, though not a high-profile year for the quartet, was nonetheless quite important in Hutchinson Family history.

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rose and vacated the apartment, repairing to the corridors and hotel office, indignantly declaring, with much more profanity than could by any stretch of imagination be considered necessary, that they did not propose "to eat with a 'nigger.'"  Meanwhile, though rather surprised at this demonstration, I calmly remarked to Douglass that we would go on with our dinner, and beckoned to the waiter to come and serve us. He, a white man, defiantly placed his towel behind his back, and refused to respond. Then I called another, and another, with the same discouraging lack of success. By this time I was desperate; going to the side-board, where the dinner was dealt out, I seized a whole roasted chicken, and placing it before my despised friend, told him we would serve ourselves. As we came out of the dining-room, having finished our dinner, the cook came up from the basement, wearing his white head-gear, and boldly declared that he'd be ------ if he would cook for a nigger. As we glanced from the windows we saw at least a half-dozen drays drawn up to the sidewalk, receiving the baggage of the "insulted" guests, which was being removed to more acceptable quarters. The proprietor of the hotel took a noble stand on this occurrence. He said to me, "I take the responsibility. This is your guest, and you have a right to have him here."

At a later date during my stay, I had a rather unpleasant experience with this same landlord. I was afflicted with a severe toothache. He sympathetically remarked that he thought he could help me, and I consented to let him pull the offending molar. So he produced an instrument closely resembling a logger's cant-hook, known to the profession as a "turnkey," and adjusted it for action. He used a neighboring tooth for

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a fulcrum.  When he began to bear down, I found that one of my front teeth was likely to be sacrificed, and cried out, "Hold on! you'll spoil my front tooth."  As a matter of fact, I now, a half-century later, carry a loose front tooth, with a dent in it, as a result of that operation. Well, the tooth came out, and my Boniface dentist looked it over, said it showed very little decay, and after scraping it, put it back in my jaw. He showed me one in his own mouth which had been put back in the same way. For six weeks after that I suffered from neuralgia and every form of pain that ever proceeds from a diseased jaw. Finally I went to Lynn, convinced that another tooth was the sinner, and calling on a dentist, had it extracted. Then I told him of the tooth I had had pulled and reset, and he exclaimed, "You have run the risk of your life! It must come out at once."   So the second one was taken out. I found it a great deal more painful than when it was pulled the first time.

On the 1st of October, 1846, we started on another tour, very successful financially, but which came to an abrupt ending, owing to our regard for another cultured black man, Robert Purvis, of Philadelphia, and our determination that whites and blacks should have equal facilities to hear the Hutchinsons sing, or we would refuse to sing to anybody. Three profitable engagements, at an average of eight hundred dollars each, were hanging in the balance of our decision; but we did not falter and rather than yield to the pro-slavery prejudice of Philadelphia, expressed through the high-handed officialism of its mayor, we returned to our farms and our freedom. We could earn our bread by the sweat of our brows, and preferred to, rather than submit to the tyranny of misguided and prejudiced magistrates, even

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though we knew an impatient public was waiting for our songs.

On January 8, 1847, Mr. Garrison made the following comment on the Philadelphia incident, in the Liberator:

The Hutchinson Family, after giving three concerts in Philadelphia, were denied the use of Musical Fund Hall for a fourth by the trustees, on the ground that the mayor had given warning that the admission of persons of color could not be allowed, and would be positively prohibited, otherwise the city would be exposed to the danger of a mob! There is another exemplification of American liberty  -  another story to travel to England of opprobrium of our country. Shade of William Penn! has not thy miscalled "City of Brotherly Love" long since become the abode of every foul spirit? Of course the Hutchinsons indignantly refused to exclude colored persons from their concerts, and consequently shook off the dust from their feet of this mobocratic city.

We gave Philadelphia a lesson that she did not forget, and she profited by it. But to my story.

Our route led us through Manchester, Concord and Nashua, to Boston and Lowell. At each place we gave good satisfaction, except when we sang what the Democrats called "politics."  Then we usually received a volley of hisses. But hisses did not frighten us. We gave two concerts in Salem, and recalled how once we had to go begging for an audience in the City of Witches; but a name abroad had changed all that. We found it harder to sustain popularity than to earn it, for our audiences grew critical. At a concert in Lynn someone made a remark from the auditor's seats, and in response Brother Jesse gave one of his celebrated crows, with which he was wont to awake all the roosters in town at dead of night during his youth and young manhood. The effect upon the audience was to cause a commotion that may be better imagined than described. We went to Worcester, where two concerts were given, and on October 14th [Impossible - evidently Saturday, November 14, 1846, was intended.] reached New York

"Our route led us through Manchester, Concord and Nashua":   The story of this tour is a good deal more complex than John's telling of it. Audiences and journalists were on the lookout as to what ways the Hutchinsons were changed by their European success. Though it would be totally out of character, there is reason to believe that the quartet was insufficiently rehearsed at the start of this concert season. Negative responses to the political content of the group's concerts seem to have been stronger than during the previous domestic tour. And if the Hutchinsons always allowed for integrated audiences, as seems likely, then why did it take until this time for the practice to stir controversy?

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City.  My diary tells the story of our stay there as follows:

On Wednesday the 18th, sang in the Tabernacle to about two thousand people. It did seem good to be with the Gothamites once more. We got through the concert without much trouble. With the exception of a little hissing all went off smoothly. We sang against war with Mexico, and against the 'honorable" system of enslaving the human race. The papers came out the next day roaring like lions against such sentiments being uttered in a concert-room by persons singing for the public favor and money. This had its effect, and now we feel more like singing against these public sins than ever. On Monday the 21st, we had our second, and another good house, but with some falling off from the first. One paper is on our side, the New York Tribune, edited by Horace Greeley, formerly of Amherst, N.H. He is a very moral man, and one who wishes well to all the human family. Peace to his posterity!

On Tuesday, December 1st, we gave our third entertainment, at the Tabernacle. Had a good house. My wife was present. She came on in the steamboat Atlantic, arriving in New York on that morning, just two days before the boat was wrecked on the coast of Long Island Sound, forty persons losing their lives. Oh, what an escape!

On the day of one of our concerts in New York Abby was suffering with a severe cold, caught on a trip to Sing Sing, where we spent Thanksgiving Day singing to the prisoners. The doctor said she could hardly talk, much less sing; but we had the programme to go through, and went through it, Abby singing with the rest, to the satisfaction of ourselves and the public. To the last our concerts in New York were well attended, but much opposition was manifested, especially when we sung such lines as the following:

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Our two opening concerts at Philadelphia were of the pleasantest kind. We took about fourteen hundred dollars. We stayed with Edward Hopper, son of the eminent philanthropist of the same surname. Mr. Hopper's wife was the daughter of Mrs. Mott, the noted Quakeress and Abolitionist. The week preceding Christmas was one to be long remembered. We occasionally found amusement skating with friends, Edward Davis, Miller McKim and others. On the eve of Christmas we had a fine time at the home of our friends the Palmers, with games and song.

On Christmas night we gave our fourth concert at Musical Fund Hall, and encountered some opposition to our anti-slavery sentiments. But we felt it our duty to tell the sins of the nation, and preach humanity to the whole race. At this concert our friend Robert Purvis, an educated mulatto, to whom I have previously referred, a fine speaker and in every way an able man, attended, sitting with Lucretia Mott and one or two other "plain bonnets." Some few people, having constitutional objections to colored persons beside them in a public entertainment, made complaint to the mayor [John Swift], and that dough-faced functionary at once notified the head of his police force to place officers at the door to stop anyone black enough to belong to the proscribed race from coming in to hear us sing. Also informing the trustees of the hall that he would not be responsible for the damage to it, if this was not done. This order we considered an infringement of human rights, and we at once came out in a card in the papers, stating our convictions in the most emphatic manner, and announcing the cancelling of the dates of three concerts advertised, on the ground that we were virtually driven from the hall:

"On Christmas night we gave our fourth concert":   John's account of this complex incident is sketchy to say the least. Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., was at the heart of the action, so it could be that John simply didn't know a lot of the details. It seems more likely, though, that this was one of the points where John's diary-keeping trailed off or lapsed altogether.

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On the evening of the 29th we were given a farewell reception at the home of Lucretia Mott.   I shall never forget that scene. Many friends of freedom were gathered. It was a happy meeting, though the words of Mrs. Mott affected us to tears. In thrilling language, she eulogized us as martyrs for principle, saying we should be classed with the martyrs of old, and prophesying the greatest good to come from our act. And she was right. At the close of the meeting we felt more determined than ever, on our course, and consecrating ourselves anew to the good work we went forth, realizing that for the achievement of any great end, we must, in the language of the poet,

The name of Lucretia Mott will long be revered, and her good works live in history, for the seeds of love and kindness sown by her in the hearts of many will bloom centuries hence. Many hearts echo the worthy tribute paid to her by Fanny D. Gage, from which this is an extract:

"Strike like a hammer, steady, strong":   Can you identify these lines and their author?

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Of course, the real trouble in Philadelphia was that we were singing anti-slavery songs, and were converting the people, and the pro-slavery sympathizers couldn't stand it. The papers took sides for and against us, and great good was done for the cause of equal rights. Meanwhile, we shook the dust of Philadelphia from our feet, as a testimony against it, and went to Wilmington, in the slave-holding State of Delaware, where we found a less proscriptive spirit than in the City of Brotherly Love, and were treated with perfect courtesy. Then we went home, with aching hearts, for it was hard to be reconciled to the Southern custom of suppressing free speech and free song. Two days later, we brothers had shouldered our axes and were merrily at work logging, as if there were no such unpleasant functionaries as pro-slavery mayors in existence. In the course of a week I had purchased the Wheeler farm in Amherst, near the Milford line, and soon began moving my household goods to it, and set up in real earnest as a farmer.

[1847]

With the exception of two or three short trips, details of which will be given later, most of the year that followed was devoted to the multifarious cares of farm life. My journal shows that I worked fully as hard to earn a simple livelihood on that farm as does the average poor man who battles with the elements, and depredating specimens of the animal and feathered kingdom,

"Of eighty-three, I ween":   Ween, as used here, means imagine, suppose.

"In the course of a week I had purchased the Wheeler farm":   John Hutchinson as a career farmer is hard to imagine. He simply wasn't cut out for agriculture over the long haul. This purchase, which seems to have been made with the speed of impulsivity, probably had mostly to do with what was going on in John's marriage at the time and most specifically the coming birth of his and Fanny's second child.

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in getting subsistence from the rocky soil of New England, in lieu of some better and easier mode of life. Meanwhile, I confess that I was unhappy. To be sure, singing was a severe tax on one's physical and nervous system. We boys were in the habit, in our rehearsals, of practising for perfect accord and harmony until in sheer exhaustion of brain and nerve we would resort to an extreme expedient for relief. Each of us would take a separate tune, in different keys, and sing them simultaneously for about an half-hour. By that time we would be sufficiently refreshed to go on with our practising. But, notwithstanding the cares and trials of professional life, it seemed to me, picking up stones in the east field, or toiling at haying in the hot July sun, was a far harder mode of making money, and vastly less remunerative.

In January, 1847, we all went to Boston to sing at the anti-slavery meetings. Before leaving Boston we gave concerts there and in Woburn, and then went to Providence, where at our first concert the rush was so great that a thousand people were unable to gain admittance to the hall. A Mr. Willard was very kind to us during our stay here. We sang in Pawtucket, and again in Providence, and the demand to hear us was so great that on the day of our departure we gave a morning concert to a large audience. The next night we sung to fifteen hundred people in Springfield. Here we met George Hills of West Cambridge, now Arlington, and a Mr. Coggin of New Hampshire, both of whom were very friendly to us. I made a short visit to my old friend Lydston, the painter, who was also very proficient on the trombone and a good fellow. Then we proceeded to Hartford, where our friend Rev. William W. Patton, afterwards president of Howard University, soon appeared,

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and made life look pleasant. He was Ludlow Patton's brother.

February 15th we reached New Haven, where we sang to a full house. The next day we had a fine time kicking football on the college green. By the way, I was the first to introduce the big rubber football at Yale College, for so many years the home of football champions, and also at Amherst and other colleges. I had seen them at the store of a relative in New York, and immediately bought one. During this trip we for the first time saw the workings of the magnetic telegraph. Our concert was given on the 17th. It went off well, but our anti-slavery songs were hissed by a coterie of Southern students sitting together in one part of the hall. Judson looked calmly at them during a pause in the singing, and remarked: "There are no snakes in Ireland, but there are lots of geese in America."  That squelched them, and we had no further trouble. Meanwhile, we had become very much aroused, and sung with more spirit than ever. The next day we returned to Hartford, and in the evening gave a closing concert. We were hissed some, and the following day the Times, a Democratic paper, paid its respects to us, coming down on our freedom songs "like a thousand of brick," as my journal says.

Going back to Springfield, we gave concerts there and at Cabotville, and then went to Albany, where we stopped at the Delavan House, in company with John B. Gough. We went to his lecture, where he kept the people in a roar for three hours. After the lecture we had an hour of good fellowship with him. The Albanians turned out well to our concerts, and so did the Trojans, when we went to Troy on the 25th. At Troy we stayed with Rev. John Pierpont. We heard him

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On our way back we stopped at Albany and gave a farewell concert. A little negro girl in the audience disturbed some of our pro-slavery hearers very much. Judson had been quite averse to going to New York City, but we finally persuaded him to go and sing for the benefit of the starving poor of Ireland. March 3d we reached that city. Here we were met by Ludlow Patton, who soon became the husband of Abby, and had a most enjoyable time in his company. Soon after our arrival Joshua joined us, he having been himself on a concert tour. On the 5th we gave a concert in the Tabernacle, with comparatively little hissing. On the 8th we had one of our most successful concerts in Brooklyn. After a monster concert in the Tabernacle we returned to Boston, where we stopped a few days. On the Sabbath I heard Theodore Parker preach, and was highly edified. I made a practice of hearing him often after that. Took a day's run out to Lynn, to see Jesse in his new house on High Rock, and then home to Milford again.

On Sunday, April 18th, my daughter Viola was born. My diary says, "The Lord has blessed me, and I hope to be always thankful." To-day, cheered as I am in my declining years by the loving ministrations of this affectionate child, I gladly repeat the sentiment.

Home cares fully occupied my attention for many months. In August we made up a family party, and started for a trip through the White Hills. With us were Caleb and wife, Judson and Jerusha his wife, Rhoda and Abby, with Joshua driving; Asa with his new bride Elizabeth, Frank, and her sister and the baby

"Here we were met by Ludlow Patton":   It seems likely that Ludlow Patton's active courtship of Abby Hutchinson was under full steam by this time if not earlier.

"Soon after our arrival Joshua joined us":   Joshua Hutchinson had a number of commitments in and around Milford that kept him from living the life of a traveling musician until about the time of the Home Branch's tours. Following the short career of the Home Branch, Joshua set out on his own during the 1846-1847 concert season. The sudden appearance of Zephaniah K. Hutchinson shortly before the arrival of Joshua could suggest that Zephaniah was serving as Joshua's advance agent.

"Took a day's run out to Lynn, to see Jesse":   Construction of Stone Cottage on High Rock in Lynn, Massachusetts, began after Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., returned from England in 1846; but this may be the earliest roughly datable reference I've seen to Jesse and Susan having taken up residence there. Stone Cottage, incidentally, still stands and is owned by the City of Lynn.

"With us were Caleb and wife":   Sometimes the omissions in Story of the Hutchinsons are as interesting as the actual contents. All of a sudden, Asa B. Hutchinson is married. Was there a courtship? Was there a wedding? We are not told. The sister mentioned here would be Lizzie Chace Hutchinson's oldest sister, Susan, and the baby would be Susan's son, Frederick. Susan figured in to a significant event in the life of Asa's son, Oliver Dennett Hutchinson, at the close of the Civil War; and a brother-in-law was involved in a most unfortunate incident just before the war.

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in the team with me.  Others joined us as we proceeded.  Our route was through Manchester and Concord, singing at each place, and making a pilgrimage at the latter to the grave of our honored and lamented friend N. P. Rogers. Plymouth, Bristol, through Franconia Notch; Fabyans, where we found the hotel much enlarged, and did not have to camp outside as before; Littletown; Bath; Haverhill; Hanover, where we gave a concert; Woodstock; Windsor; Claremont; Bellows Falls; Brattleboro; Keene; Peterborough; giving concerts in nearly all the latter towns; and home. While in the White Mountains we were fortunate in meeting the Baker Family twice, and had a good sing with them. At Brattleboro we were serenaded in the dead of night by the Burdett Family, a fine organization of young men. It seemed to me if I could have such singing over my body at my funeral I should be satisfied. In the group was a boy, James Fisk, Jr., then fourteen years old, with a beautiful alto voice. He afterwards became the noted stock operator with Jay Gould, and died a tragic death in New York.

[1848]

The year 1848 was an eventful one to us. In February we spent three weeks in concerting in the vicinity of Boston and then departed for New York. On our way we heard that Henry Clay was to be the guest of the city, and the fact started up the poetic muse of Brother Jesse, who was with us at the hotel in New Haven and he wrote his song, "Harry of the West."  He showed the words to me, and instantly an appropriate melody came into my mind. This we sang over several times, and then started for the New York boat. On board, we sought a retired spot, and commenced to rehearse it again, Jesse taking the bass and I the air. Judson and Asa came sauntering along, attracted by the

"While in the White Mountains we were fortunate":   In the 1840s, following the success of the Hutchinsons, singing "families" were quite numerous. Many of them were reputed by at least one journalist or letters-to-the-editor writer somewhere or other to be better than the Hutchinson Family, though few of these ensembles lasted for more than a year or two if that. Hutchinson Family biographer Philip D. Jordan told me he thought the greatest of these traveling troupes, in addition to the Hutchinsons, were the Baker Family and the Alleghanians. It's hard to get a sense of the degree of popularity of the Baker Family, though clearly the songwriting of John C. Baker had many admirers.

"At Brattleboro we were serenaded in the dead of night":   Thomas St. John, a local historian of the town where I reside, Brattleboro, Vermont, says that the Burdett Family vocal group would have included Riley Burdett, the proprietor of the Cottage Organ Company. His surname is sometimes given as Burdet, Burdette, or Burditt.

"In the group was a boy, James Fisk, Jr.":   Jim Fisk is buried within easy walking distance of here. Ironically, Fisk was shot to death in New York City at the former site of one of the great concert halls where the Hutchinsons sang, Metropolitan Hall (formerly known as Tripler Hall or Tripler's Hall).

A picture of the Hutchinson Family quartet was shot by William C. North of this town, Brattleboro, Vermont, according to an item in the September 9, 1847, issue of the Vermont Phoenix.  It said, "We have been shown a Daguerreotype of the Hutchinson Family, by Mr. North of this village, taken in the best style of the art, and giving a life-like representation of those celebrated musicians as they appear at their concerts."  How to interpret the phrase, "as they appear at their concerts," could be key to identifying the picture mentioned in that news item. In the illustrations section of Carol Brink's Harps in the Wind, above a caption that reads "A nest of brothers with a sister in it," there's a picture that includes all four quartet members plus Jesse and Rhoda.  -  Click  here  to see a copy.  -  Those in the front row are seated, and the singers are dressed for a performance. Abby is shown wearing the same dress as in a picture of her alone which is supposedly from the North shoot. Do you know who may have a copy of the Harps in the Wind picture in good condition? Do you know any details about it? If you do, please e-mail us by way of the contact link that is near the bottom of the page.

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new tune, and uttering remarks in comment on our singing a song of which they knew nothing.  "What have you got there?" said one.  "Join in," said we. They took their parts, and we sang the song, until a large number of passengers, attracted by the harmony, gathered about, complimenting us upon it. We had no thought of singing it in public, but at our boarding-house in New York, we sang it over again. Captain Knight, of the new and famous ship Henry Clay, called upon us, and invited us to go on board the vessel. Complying, we went into the captain's cabin and standing in a group, struck up the song. We had hardly finished, when an alderman of the city, who was on board, said to us enthusiastically, "You must go and sing that song to Henry Clay this afternoon."  We began to consider whether we ought to go or not. Jesse immediately added another verse to the song to make our convictions clear, for we well knew Clay to be a pro-slavery man:

And we consented to go.

Going ashore, we took a hack and went after Abby, at our boarding-house. She was rather reluctant about going, as she had heard so much against the "great compromiser," but finally yielded. We soon arrived at the hotel where the reception was taking place. The mayor with his chief counsellors and their distinguished guest were just about taking their wine at the banquet when we were ushered in. The Hutchinsons were at that time very popular in New York. The leading people in all departments of life were frequenting our

"Jesse immediately added another verse to the song":   For many white Americans in those days, freedom, among other things, referred to the unrestrained exercise of the constitutionally-guaranteed "right" to own slaves; so this verse hardly made the Hutchinsons' convictions clear to the American public, no matter how clear its sentiments may have seemed to them.

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concerts, and we were pretty well known to everybody. The mayor at once arose and expressed his pleasure in announcing our presence, and said we would sing an appropriate selection. The four brothers sang

As we were singing this, Mr. Clay's eyes opened, and his chin dropped with astonishment and surprise at its appropriateness. At the close, he rose and came to us, saying, "What can I do to repay you for this great

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honor you have conferred upon me?"  Instantly the response came into my mind, "Liberate your slaves, and we'll make you President of the United States."  But it did not seem appropriate to say such a thing, under such circumstances, and we simply made some response of thanks for his expression of gratitude, and he returned to his place of honor. Subsequently, he sent his wine down to us, but we sent him back word that we were teetotallers, and could not drink with him. He left his seat, came up to us and responded, "If I were a young man like yourselves, I'd be a teetotaller, too."  Later, with Abby, we sang a temperance song, "Cold Water," and "The Old Granite State," thus giving him both temperance and emancipation.

A reporter of the New York Tribune, Elias Smith, was present, and wrote out a very elaborate account of the incident, and included the song. Other papers also printed accounts of it. This made trouble for us, for the papers went to Boston, Garrison read them, and the next week the Liberator came out, and in a scathing article attacked us for going back on our principles in doing honor to Clay, the compromiser. We said nothing in response, but bided our time.

In referring to our meeting with Clay, my diary says:  "It did seem good to hear the old man speak, but he is 'Clay' like all of us."

Another experience of our first week in New York was witnessing the funeral cortege of John Quincy Adams pass through the city.

On this trip Brother Joshua acted as our advance agent. March 14th my diary says:

We gave our second concert last night. Had a jam. We are rather glad to make money of course, but not so fast as to distract our attention from the great subject of humanity. This evening Jesse joins us in song for the first time since we left the Old World.

"We said nothing in response, but bided our time":   John's heavy use of the word, we, often clouds his meaning. Just who it is he intended to include is hard to judge with any degree of confidence. Abby was hardly involved in the Henry Clay incident, and even then it was with reluctance. Jesse's response was quite different from those of Judson, John, and Asa. There is no evidence that Joshua was involved at all, though he was the advance agent for this tour. So the word, we, almost certainly should be taken to refer to the three youngest brothers, Judson, John, and Asa.

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We stayed several days in New York, giving many concerts in the city and vicinity, usually with crowded houses. Then, with concerts in Morristown and Trenton, we went to Philadelphia, the city we had left so abruptly the year before, for conscience sake. We were unable to obtain the Musical Fund Hall for our concerts, owing to our determination to admit any colored people who were likely to come; so our three concerts were given at the Assembly Rooms. All were largely attended, and to our surprise, not the slightest disapprobation was manifested. In Baltimore two concerts were given to rather unsympathetic audiences, and here we met the Haywards, Lovejoys, and other cherished friends. We had the pleasure of a Sunday with that faithful friend to the cause of humanity, Mr. Snodgrass, and then proceeded to Washington.

At Washington we stopped at Willard's Hotel. We visited the capitol, and paid our respects to our valued friend, Senator John P. Hale. Congress was discussing resolutions regarding the French Revolution.

At our first concert, where we sang well and were but little hissed, a rather laughable episode occurred. Judson was singing his solo, "The Humbugged Husband," and was just delivering the line, "I'm sadly taken in," when the platform gave way under his feet, and he was "taken in" before the eyes of the audience, which was, of course, convulsed with laughter at the remarkable coincidence. He fell up to his chin, with violin in one hand and bow in the other, outstretched in air.

On April 11th we took a trip to Mount Vernon, the home of Washington, eight miles by boat and the rest in a hack, ten miles. The house and tomb of Washington were in a sadly dilapidated condition. We went into the mansion, and sang "The Land of Our Fathers"

"All were largely attended, and to our surprise":   Evidently it was at just this time and in Philadelphia that a woman named Kate Wildair wrote a fascinating description of Abby Hutchinson, which Ludlow Patton saved in his Hutchinson Family Scrapbook (Item 12, back):  "One never tires listening to her low, clear, sweet voice. Her rich brown hair is parted plainly in front, and falls in clustering ringlets over her shoulders, and as she stands before you with her beaming eyes  -  half-timid, half-smiling face  -  her hands somewhat stiffly held together  -  and her dress so plain and neat, pouring forth a flood of melody, without effort and without affectation, you feel perfectly convinced that dear, sweet Abby is all that she looks to be."   John W. Hutchinson's profile of Sister Abby appears in this book, Story of the Hutchinsons, Vol. 2 at the end of Chapter 4.

"Congress was discussing resolutions":   At about this time, Jesse Hutchinson wrote a song that, at first, seems to have been called "The French Revolution" by reporters but which later appeared in concert programs and advertisements as "The Revolution in Europe."  Fragment: "O, what a shout for liberty, Comes o'er the mighty ocean, The people struggling to be free, All Europe's in commotion."  If you know of a source for the full set of lyrics or even for a more extensive fragment, please e-mail us by way of the contact link near the bottom of the page.

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to old Mrs. Washington, a family connection of the great man, cut some canes for souvenirs and came away after witnessing the squalor of the slaves of the Washington family, feeling that slavery was a curse to our country, indeed. The same evening we went to the White House to see President Polk.  "Shook the old fellow by the hand, and found him to be nothing but a man, and rather small at that," says my diary. We met James Bowles and other old friends there.

The next day we went to the capitol again, and heard speeches from John C. Calhoun and others. In the afternoon Judson and I called upon Mr. Tuck, Representative from New Hampshire, and Joshua R. Giddings, who was still doing his glorious work for his fellow-men.

Sunday, the 16th, we had as company all day Dr. Bailey and another friend, Mr. Chaplin, a man who only the night before had succeeded in starting seventy-seven fugitive slaves toward a land of freedom. He had kept his secret well, and no one suspected him of complicity in a plot that had set the whole city, and later the country at large in an uproar. He was very anxious, and it was a relief to confide his story to us. The next morning I had business at the American Hotel. The man whose guest I was begged me to excuse the absence of a bootblack and other supernumeraries of the establishment. He said the servants were among the party of fugitives that had escaped. He did not seem to know the manner of their departure, and I was discreet enough not to inform him. All the slaves were recaptured near the mouth of the Potomac, and a few days later were auctioned off to planters farther South, against the protests of Northern papers, as a punishment for attempting to make their escape.

Notes by Alan Lewis