In 1774, Peggy Hutchinson (see post here) had accompanied her father, Thomas Hutchinson former governor of Massachusetts, to London where, in exile, he tried to effect a reconciliation with the rebellious colony. She wrote the following letter to her sister-in-law Polly in America on October 29 describing a dispute after a dinner as to “which was the best country—New England, or Old?”

Papa, your husband [Peggy’s brother Elisha], and myself, were for the former : Mr. C[larke], and Billy [Peggy’s brother William] for the latter. I own I still feel a partiality for my native country. Papa could not help expressing his in very strong terms. Mr. C. said he never should lose the idea of the last winter : that the injuries he then received were too strongly impressed upon his mind ever to be erased. I told him I was surprised to find his affections so alienated from his country : that I thought the friends he had there, if nothing else, must make the place dear to him : and, as to climate, surely, said I, we have the advantage. They would neither of them allow it, but said the extremes of cold and heat were enough to ruin people’s constitutions. I, in return, had no mercy upon this, but exclaimed against it as cold, damp, dirty, and altogether disagreeable, and declared that I could not take a breath of air, but it gave me a cold and cough, which immediately fixed upon my lungs : and that if I lived here fifty years, I never should be reconciled to the climate, or to living in London; but could not but allow that the country was exceedingly beautiful, and struck me beyond anything I could imagine : but that only served to tantalize, as the ground was always so wet, (even in the middle of summer) that it was impossible to enjoy it by walking. We carried it on till it was time for them to go to the Play : and I believe Mr. C. was glad to get off with a whole skin. How happy should I be to see that country restored to a state of peace and quiet! not so much for my own sake as papa’s, who I think will be happier there. . . .

In a later letter Peggy writes “What joy would it give me if [Papa] could be the means of restoring peace to his native country, but I see no prospect of it : you are bent upon destruction.” Thomas Hutchinson’s attempts proved futile.

The letter can be found in The Diary and Letters of Thomas Hutchinson, Vol. 1, HERE, pages 276-77, 278.

Last week I came across two interesting letters by Margaret Hutchinson, the daughter of Thomas Hutchinson, chief justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court and later governor of the state during the events in Boston that led to the Revolutionary War: the Stamp Act riots, the Boston Massacre, and the Boston Tea Party. I reached for my copy of historian Bernard Bailyn’s prize-winning book The Ordeal of Thomas Hutchinson to refresh my memory about one of the most vilified individuals of the Revolutionary War. Boston born, Hutchinson was an upright man who believed his actions in the crises were, though unpopular, legal and responsible. He loved Massachusetts, had collected materials on its founding and history, and eventually wrote a book about the colony.

In 1771, Lord Fitzwilliam, a young naval officer and son of a nobleman, applied to Hutchinson for his daughter Margaret’s hand. Known as “Peggy,” she was the youngest of his five children and his favorite; his wife had died at her birth. Hutchinson refused the suitor on the grounds that the families were not on the same social level, advising Fitzwilliam not to marry “down.” He wrote: “In my station . . . I should think it my duty to do all in my power to discourage one of [Lord Fitzwilliam’s] sons from so unequal a match with any person in the Province, and I should most certainly be highly criminal if I should countenance and encourage a match with my own daughter.” Some fathers would have jumped at the chance for their daughter to “marry up.”

As the situation in Massachusetts deteriorated, Hutchinson was replaced by military Governor General Thomas Gage. In 1774, Hutchinson booked passage for England taking Peggy and his son Elisha with him. He was never to return. In a letter to Elisha’s wife, Polly, in Massachusetts, Peggy described their sea voyage and her feelings on arriving in London.

2 August 1774My dear Polly,
You wish for an account of what has passed since we saw each other, it seems a little age since the chariot drove from the door and conveyed me from so many dear friends, to suffer more than I should have thought possible for me to have borne. I had not left you many hours before I was the most miserable creature on earth: it is impossible for me to describe or give you any idea of what I endured the first fortnight; the second was bad enough, and I am not yet what I used to be. Your beloved [Polly’s husband] has I suppose given you an account of our passage. . . . London my dear is a world in itself; you ask me how I like it? very well for a little while: it will do to see once in one’s life, and to talk of ever after; but I would not wish to fix my abode here. In the country methinks, had I my friends with me, I could not but be happy: for seventy miles round it is a perfect garden, and exceeds all that the most romantic fancy could paint. I cannot say much in favour of the climate; the weather has been as cold as our November, and excessively damp, except two or three days, and I have not been free from a cold since I came.

The letter can be found in The Diary and Letters of Thomas Hutchinson, Vol. 1, HERE.

George Washington replied to Annis Boudinot Stockton’s letter in which she enclosed the poem (see previous post) she wrote in 1783 honoring him. Her letter has not survived but Washington’s charming and somewhat humorous response has. I love it because it shows a side of Washington not generally acknowledged or appreciated.

ROCKY HILL, Sept. 24th, 1783.
You apply to me, my dear madam, for absolution, as though you had committed a crime, great in itself yet of the venial class. You have reasoned good, for I find myself strongly disposed to be a very indulgent ghostly adviser on this occasion, and notwithstanding you are the most offending soul alive (that is if it is a crime to write elegant poetry), yet if you will come and dine with me on Thursday, and go through the proper course of penitence which shall be prescribed, I will strive hard to assist you in expiating these poetical trespasses on this side of purgatory. Nay, more, if it rests with me to direct your future lucubrations, I shall certainly urge you to a repetition of the same conduct–on purpose to show what an admirable knack you have at confession and reformation; and so without more hesitation I shall venture to recommend the muse not to be restrained by illgrounded timidity, but to go on and prosper. You see, madam, when once the woman has tempted us and we have tasted the forbidden fruit, there is no such thing as checking our appetite, whatever the consequences may be. . . . Before I come to a more serious conclusion of my letter I must beg leave to say a word or two about these fine things you have been telling in such harmonious and beautiful numbers. Fiction is to be sure the very life and soul of poetry. All poets and poetesses have been indulged in the free and indisputable use of it—time out of mind, and to oblige you to make such an excellent poem on such a subject without any materials but those of simple reality would be as cruel as the edicts of Pharaoh, which compelled the Children of Israel to manufacture bricks without the necessary ingredients. Thus are you sheltered under the authority of prescription, and I will not dare to charge you with an intentional breach of the rules of the decalogue in giving so bright a colouring to the service I have been enabled to render my country, though I am not conscious of deserving more at your hands than what the poorest and most disinterested friendship has a right to claim: actuated by which you will permit me to thank you in a most affectionate manner for the kind wishes you have so happily expressed for me and the partner of all my domestic enjoyments. Be assured we can never forget our friend at Morven [the Boudinot house near Princeton] and that I am, my dear madam, your most obedient and obliged servant,
GO. WASHINGTON

Washington’s letter to Stockton can be found HERE..