Story 6: Social
Life/Personalities at the Homestead
As you walk around the Homestead, you may try
to picture what daily life was like living here, and what the people were
like. I would like to share with you some of Ellen’s descriptions of the
people and activities. She says,
"You will have already surmised that the
Homestead was exceedingly hospitable, notwithstanding the large family and
mother’s delicate health. The house was overrun with visitors, and parties,
tea drinkings, and dinner parties were often given. Many distinguished
people have been familiar within its doors, so that associations glad, as
well as sad, crowd its rooms." She notes that there were nine weddings,
parties given in honor of in-coming Governors Briggs and Boutwell, Christmas
parties, birthdays, nine births, one baptism, and many deaths in the
Homestead.
Mary Bennet, Ellen’s mother, died in 1867.
Ellen states that the death left "a vacancy made in home and hearts that
could never be filled…Though more than thirty years as an invalid, she was
always cheerful and in every way a most superior woman. With an
affectionate, warm heart, wholly unselfish. Notwithstanding her many
children and cares, she at different times took to her home and care three
children who needed homes."
Frances, Ellen’s sister "died in consumption,
leaving 3 daughters and a baby boy, an incomparable loss to her family. Ever
after, some of the children had a home in the "old homestead" first one then
another, whichever needed the most brooding and care; and all of them always
found a welcome and comfort; and they in return, kept the house lively,
bringing their young friends around them."
Ellen calls Timothy "a handsome man, quiet,
intelligent and refined."
She describes Sarah as "handsome, gentle,
intelligent, religious, highly educated, writing much for periodicals and
papers, and published several books."
William, she says, is "fine looking, fresh
and hearty, a most affectionate father, husband and son"
Edward, the man who was beaten for defending
an African American man, was a "wholly unselfish, affectionate man, his hand
ever ready to help, genial and earnest, tall and commanding and full of
fun".
She also shows their inner strength with this
story:
After William’s death in 1855, the family was
left penniless. "From a life of luxury, they were obliged in any and every
way that came to them (Mother and three unmarried daughters) to earn money
for their support. Mother sewed, Caroline gave music lessons, and also sang
in the choir of Park, St. Church, Boston. Ellen gave lessons in painting and
sold pictures, and Mouse taught school. The house was filled with boarders,
mostly young gentlemen, so an entire change came over their lives and the
ways of the ‘old homestead’." The women did what they had to do.
Conclusion
I hope that from these stories, you now know
more about your ancestors, and feel some kinship to them, maybe even seeing
yourself in some of them. They were achievers of their time. From
anti-slavery to women’s rights, from the Revolutionary War to the railroad
to charity organizations, they contributed greatly to their community.
I think all the Jacksons who have lived here
would be very happy about this gathering, and probably surprised about all
the stories I have told. They lived their lives doing the best they could,
probably not thinking they were so special. Well, we think they were.
I would like to conclude by sharing some
excerpts of a poem called "Jackson Homestead" by Frederick Stanwood
Jackson. He was Timothy’s youngest son and wrote it in 1876 at 36 years of
age when he was in business in New York.
Jackson Homestead
I Love to remember and let my thoughts wander
To the Days of my boyhood; it seems but a
span
To the joys of my youth, to the old Jackson
Homestead
To the place which so oft with our voices has
rung.
To the orchard behind and the garden before
it
(No garden to my eyes has since looked so
well)
The green, creeping vine, and the porch that
did bear it,
They help make the picture on which I would
dwell.
…
The old house itself, how it thrills me with
pleasure
When I think of its halls through which I
have run,
Its nooks and its corners, every one I will
treasure,
There’s no other such "homestead," no, not in
this land.
The ivy still clings to the old "Jackson
Homestead,"
In the rooms where we gathered on bright
Christmas eve,
It still remains green, as though it had
said,
I love the "old homestead," and never will
leave.
The old-fashioned furniture, the odd-looking
relics,
The different quaint things brought from
various climes,
The dread we all had of the quiet old attic,
Where together we children had many good
times,
And the songs that we sung that through the
house thundered,
The games that we played, shall we ever
forget?
Tough things are now plain at which we then
wondered.
Green are the memories of those pleasant
times yet.
The children I met there are now men and
women,
Some we shall see no more, they are dead.
But all were made better by pains that were
taken
To make us all happy at "Jackson Homestead"
So long may you stand, thou time-honored
mansion,
A landmark for future ages to see;
Tell the man of the future, while you saw his
attention,
