The Governor's diary in England is a profoundly pathetic record of a man broken-hearted by his expatriation. His sons and daughters and their families to the number of twenty-five were all dependent upon him. "He is glad he has a home for them, when so many fellow-exiles are in want." As Hutchinson was by far the ablest and most eminent of his party, so his sufferings were especially sharp. His name was held to be a stigma. Hutchinson Street in Boston became Pearl Street. The town of Hutchinson in the heart of the Commonwealth, cast off its title as that "of one who had acted the part of a traitor and parricide," substituting for it that of Barre, the liberal champion in Parliament. The honorable name he had made through forty years of self-denying wisely directed public service, was blotted out, for generations it was a mark for obloquy. His great possession and large estate were confiscated, and to the shame of his countrymen be it said, they did not spare even his family tomb. It was sold by the State and the bones of his ancestors, some of the greatest men of the colony, and those of his wife and children were thrown out. The old stone with the Hutchinson crest on it still remains over the tomb in Copp's Hill burial ground with the name of the new owner of the tomb rudely marked on it. Could the governor have had a premonition of what was going to happen when he wrote to his son, Feb. 22, 1775, that he wished to have a new tomb built at Milton, and the remains of his wife, deceased twenty-one years, to be tenderly removed from Copp's Hill and deposited therein, with space for himself, and bade him "leave the wall or any ornament or inscription till I return, and the sooner it is finished the better."