NMH Magazine : Winter 2003

When Henry Met Harriet

Henry Cutler nervously pulled his cuffs as the train pulled into Millers Falls station. Just days before, he'd agreed to teach at Mount Hermon for the 1886-87 school year. On the promise of that employment, he'd gone to Springfield and bought neckties, handkerchiefs, collars and cuffs, shoes, stockings, an umbrella, and two suits. All in all, he'd spent $31.40–money he could barely afford to spend. But Henry took his new responsibilities seriously and wanted to look like a proper schoolteacher. 

Lizzie Robinson, a former classmate of his sister's at Northfield Seminary, greeted him at the station. "Welcome to your new world!" she said, smiling. "I hope you'll find it to your liking." 

Beside Lizzie was a young woman in a plaid dress, with wavy brown hair that softly framed her face. She had deep-set, gray-blue eyes and a refined air. 

"This is Harriet Ford, who has been teaching at Mount Hermon for two years," said Lizzie. "You must thank her for coming and doubling the size of your welcome party." 

Henry shook Harriet's hand and thanked her in his warmest voice. She looked at him with extraordinarily direct eyes, and he felt something pinch his heart, leaving it startled and tender at the same time. He had the sudden sense that the adventure he'd embarked on was going to take him in directions he'd never expected. 

Twenty-four years of hard work and determination had led Henry Cutler to Mount Hermon. Born on a farm in Greenwich, Massachusetts, in 1862, he'd spent what little free time he had reading anything he could lay his hands on. Henry loved the chores and rituals of farming, but he loved learning even more. With his parents' blessings, he attended New Salem Academy, taught at a school in Vermont, then entered Amherst College in 1882. 

Some were amazed that Henry had lived long enough to enroll in college. To say he was accident-prone was an understatement. He'd been run over twice by wagons. Once while he was moving hay into a barn, a pole he was straddling broke, plunging him headfirst onto the barn floor and nearly breaking his neck. Another time he was walking a horse when a bolt of lightning struck them both. These were just a few of his injuries. 

But Henry was resilient and absolutely determined to gain a college degree. Throughout his four years at Amherst he struggled financially, doing custodial work and other odd jobs. He wasn't a natural scholar and had to work hard to keep up, but his powers of concentration were extraordinary. He graduated cum laude in June 1886, with a special interest in languages. 

The summer after he graduated, he worked on the family farm and wrote to teachers' agencies in search of jobs. As no jobs opened up, he became increasingly worried. By mid-September he still hadn't heard anything and his spirits were at an all-time low. Henry dropped to his knees in the barn and prayed for strength and hope. Moments later a letter arrived from Lizzie Robinson, who'd become a teacher at Mount Hermon. She asked if he'd be willing to teach the lower grades. 

Two days later Henry traveled to Mount Hermon to meet with its principal, Henry Sawyer, who hired him then and there. Henry signed on to teach Latin, arithmetic, and other subjects as needed. He had just enough time to return home, purchase new clothing, pack his trunk, and make his second trip to Mount Hermon, where Lizzie and the intriguing Harriet met him at the station. 

Harriet Ford had experienced a great deal of tragedy in her young life. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1863, she was one of five daughters. She was so ill as a baby that her parents hurried to name her before she died. Harriet survived but was physically slight and delicate. Her temperament, on the other hand, was strong, marked by a keen sense of justice and personal rights. 

Harriet's father, a minister, died in summer 1872. Within three months of his death, Harriet's two older sisters died of typhoid fever, and her baby sister had a fall that injured her spine and crippled her for life. In 1873, Harriet suffered an attack of pneumonia that left her with a weak heart. Mrs. Ford and her three surviving daughters relocated to the east, where they rented a house in Wellesley Hills outside Boston. They had little money, but it was a happy, close household. Harriet read voraciously; before she was 15 she'd read all of Dickens's novels and Shakespeare's plays. She always ranked among the first in her class. 

In 1879 Harriet entered Wellesley College, where her classmates were captivated by her thoughtfulness and joyful spirit. She loved studying languages, especially Greek. Graduating in 1883, she was one of the best students in her class. D. L. Moody heard about Harriet through one of her classmates and sent for her to come visit Mount Hermon. He offered her a teaching job on the spot. 

She began teaching Greek, classics, and Bible in September 1884. Mount Hermon had 68 students at the time. Harriet was younger than some of her students, but she managed to command their respect and admiration. She took cross-country tramps with the Mount Hermon boys on Saturdays and played sports with them. She could beat the best of them in tennis and was a highly sought-after team member in football, baseball, and hockey. The only area she didn't excel in was getting up early in the morning; she was always the last to appear at breakfast. 

After two years at Mount Hermon, Harriet thought it might be time to go elsewhere–but D. L. Moody wouldn't hear of it. He made her an offer so generous that she decided to stay, a decision that led her straight into the path of Henry Cutler. 

Although teaching consumed most of his energy, Henry couldn't stop thinking about Harriet Ford. He invited her to play tennis in early October, and she managed to beat him. His estimation of her rose even higher, if that were possible. 

Henry had formed plans to study in Europe for a year, but first he had to improve his German. His fellow teacher Peter Petersen offered lessons in German reading and conversation. He held them in Cottage 4, which happened to be the home of Harriet Ford's mother, who was at Mount Hermon for the year. Henry joined Harriet and her mother for lessons, entranced by the opportunity to study language and Harriet at the same time. 

The moments he could steal with Harriet were few and far between: walking or driving to church services in Northfield, traveling to Bernardston or Brattleboro to concerts. Whenever they were together, time seemed suspended and he felt fully alive yet peaceful. They talked endlessly. 

Every night before suppertime, Henry tucked a letter to Harriet between the pages of his hymnal. Then he carried the hymn book to the dining table to use at evening devotions, just as his fellow teachers did. He always felt a thrill when he laid the book on the table, knowing Harriet would manage to pick it up "accidentally"–and that he would soon pick up her hymnal, her letter to him pressed inside. 

Henry knew that Harriet was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Together they shared a passion for learning and language–and, above all, for being of service. On February 26 he proposed to her, and she unhesitatingly accepted. He could barely believe such a happy, wonderful thing could happen to him. They agreed to keep their engagement secret until the end of the school year.

For three years, Henry and Harriet conducted a long-distance romance. He moved to Europe to attend various universities; she continued teaching at Mount Hermon, then spent a year studying in Germany. The brief periods of time they spent together confirmed their love. In fall 1889, Henry began teaching at a school in Pennsylvania, while Harriet taught Greek at Northfield. 

The following summer, D. L. Moody startled Henry with a request: Would he become acting principal of Mount Hermon? Henry accepted, elated that he could finally provide an income to support a family. On July 23, 1890, three weeks after Moody offered him the job of principal, Henry and Harriet married. They spent their honeymoon in Niagara Falls, then settled in the principal's house at Mount Hermon. 

Henry soon wondered how he'd ever done without Harriet at his side. He leaned on her heavily, seeking her advice in all matters. Her outgoing nature charmed the faculty, and he marveled at her ability to get straight to the heart of a subject yet always be tactful. By the end of his second year as principal, Henry's success was obvious. The school thrived under his leadership, and his position became permanent. Meanwhile, the Cutler family began to grow. First came Conrad, followed by Henry and Christine. But the strain of childbearing took its toll on Harriet. Her heart, already weakened by a childhood attack of pneumonia, became weaker still. She was forced to take regular periods of rest away from her family, staying either with her sister in Wellesley Hills or spending time alone in Heron Island, Maine. She wrote often to Henry while on these sojourns.

September 4, 1895, Christmas Cove on the Maine shore
"I read to-day Keats' "Eve of St. Agnes." I am sure I read it a long time ago but it meant nothing to me then, and left no impression. How a love like ours opens doors which but for it would ever remain sealed and locked. Every year the richness and the vividness of life lived in the atmosphere of our great love grow upon me. Life is so many-sided, now calm, sweet and gentle like a gracious smooth-flowing river, and again so majestic and grand, so full of beautiful human passion, which is yet so pure and so holy.

September 11, 1895, Christmas Cove
You know it is our dear Conrad's fourth birthday on Friday. We will celebrate a little later for him and Hal together when I come home. It seems more than four years, doesn't it, since that first precious little treasure came to our arms? What experiences since then, and how the life has widened and deepened with each little one! I can scarcely keep from laughing aloud when I think how soon now I shall see you all. 

Harriet bore four more children in the next four years: twins Harriet and Helen, and sons Robert and John. By summer 1901, her health was very poor. Her doctor again ordered her to spend time away from home so she could have rest and quiet. From Bernardston she wrote to Henry.

September 1901
....I am trying to be good and I think I am becoming reconciled to anything the future has in store for me. I have not been really rebellious, but only bewildered, I think. I felt that we had both tried to meet our lives bravely, and I did not feel that I had gone contrary to nature's laws so as to bring on any retribution, and certainly you have never spared yourself in guarding and cherishing me....It did seem hard to have things come as they have, but I am trying to be happy, and I am most of the time. I went to the station to be weighed and found I weighed 149 pounds. How much longer will you care to carry me up and down stairs? 

For the next two years, Harriet managed to live at home and run the household most of the time. She lived as a semi-invalid, spending most of each day in bed. In the spring of 1903, Harriet's heart trouble grew worse, and in May she had a heart attack. On May 25, Henry wrote to his sister-in-law:

...It is hard to have her suffer. She is so dear to us. She does not talk very much but she wants to. She speaks of you all and of her father. She talks of the children and sometimes it's too much for her and she cries. I am not very brave myself...along that line. 

Henry's 41st birthday fell on May 27. Not wanting to ruin the children's pleasure, Harriet insisted that it be a festive occasion. Flowers bedecked the table, a huge cake was served, and Harriet spoke cheerfully with all the guests. 

The next day her mind began to wander, and she slept deeply for several days. Waking up, Harriet was puzzled. "Am I very ill?" she asked Henry. 

He gently told her she was. 

"Am I going to die?" 

"We want you to stay with us, and we are trying to keep you." 

Harriet told Henry she wasn't afraid to die. He repeated the 23rd Psalm and a hymn, then said the Lord's prayer and the children's prayer "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep." The children were woken up and brought in one by one so she could kiss them. Harriet asked Henry to give her goodbyes to relatives, Mount Hermon friends, Moody family members, neighbors–she tried to remember them all. 

The next morning, June 1, she seemed more comfortable than she'd been in a long time, but also much weaker. At noon, while Henry and the children were eating lunch, the nurse took Harriet's temperature. She said, "I feel as if I was going into one of those unconscious states again." With those words, she passed away. 

Harriet was buried on June 3 after a funeral service in Memorial Chapel. A band of students carried her casket, wreathed in wildflowers and ferns picked by her children, across campus and down the hill to the little cemetery on the road to Northfield. 

Henry couldn't fully take in the fact that Harriet was gone. For days after her death, when someone called him at home about a school problem, he put his hand over the phone's mouthpiece and looked around to consult her. She'd been his confidante, his trusted advisor, his best friend. 

Mount Hermon's trustees granted Henry a three-month leave of absence. He went to France, taking his two oldest children with him. Toward the end of the trip, he wrote:

I shall not lose courage although I shall not cease to be lonely. I cannot review the experience even now but sometime I shall be able. 

When he arrived back at Mount Hermon, he came by way of the lower road and stopped at the cemetery that held Harriet's grave. For a moment he felt free of the grief that wrapped his heart in heaviness. For a moment he felt glad again, remembering.

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Henry Cutler continued as principal of Mount Hermon until 1932. In 1907 he married his cousin, Carrie Cutler, who'd served as the children's caretaker for four years. Widowed for a second time in 1926, he married Mabel Learoyd, a Mount Hermon math teacher. After Cutler's retirement, he attended medical school in France and Austria. He received his medical degree in 1940, at the age of 78. Cutler returned to Massachusetts and passed away in October 1945 from pneumonia. Ford Cottage, named after Harriet Ford and built in 1912, is the official residence of the head of the school and a lasting reminder of Henry and Harriet Cutler's loving partnership. 

By Mary Seymour