Last updated: November 29, 2025
Article
On the Hilltop: Patriots of Northbridge
Map reproduction courtesy of the Norman B. Leventhal Map & Education Center at the Boston Public Library.
In the early 1770s, a group of colonists high on a hilltop in Mendon, Massachusetts, sought a bit of independence.
Few would have considered a war against the Crown; their ambition was much more modest at that time. Seeking their own governance, settlers in portions of Uxbridge and Mendon sought new town lines, as well as a new name for their land. The result was the town of Northbridge, incorporated on July 14, 1772.i Two years later, the people of Northbridge realized the dream of having a meeting house to call their own. This brought an end to years of exhausting Sunday travels and disconnected patterns of worship in private homes.ii
These local accomplishments in the arenas of church and state were soon overshadowed by the first shots of war. Circumstances far beyond the control of most in Northbridge stalled the formal establishment of the First Church in Northbridge to June 6, 1782; a date between Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown and the Treaty of Paris. A time of waiting, of hope, and for many in Northbridge, certainly, of prayer. From 1772 until 1782, many found their world turned over, with the people of Northbridge Center responding to the call to serve in a war that at times, must have seemed interminable.
During the War for Independence, most people in Northbridge did not see battle. They were the ones who kept up the fight at home, keeping the community running, as well as feeding or clothing soldiers they may have known intimately or may have never met at all. Some of the patriots who pushed for the incorporation of Northbridge, who then fought in the Revolution, and, when possible, worshiped in the new meetinghouse, eventually found eternal rest in an adjacent plot of earth. Their names are preserved for posterity on gravestones and community markers in a cemetery that has outlasted the neighboring meetinghouse.
We cannot tell the story of the American Revolution without patriots, but the story of the Revolution is not theirs alone. Likewise, the meetinghouse in Northbridge Center may have been the central meeting point for many colonists in Northbridge, but it was not the center of all residents’ worlds. Nearby, there were settled dissidents, including Friends who did not worship with the First Church in Northbridge, and who did not fight in the town’s ranks. They, too, are critical to understanding the formation of the Early Republic.
This essay provides insight into a story of patriots, pacificists, and some of the people who lived between them in Northbridge Center. It is a short sketch on some of the people who formed a community in peace, as subjects, and came out the other side of war, to gather in a meeting place for citizens.
Whitinsville Social Library Historical Collection
The Hilltop
Within a few months of incorporation, Northbridge’s leaders chose officers, including a clerk, a treasurer, and a group of selectmen. It was understood that established men would assume these roles. An early priority was voting to approve funding for a meetinghouse, which these men promptly handled. While keeping records of their work, town leaders typically used landmarks familiar to them. In lieu of street names, they used their neighbors’ boundaries to explain their
ideal location for the meetinghouse (“between Joshua Farnum's and Thomas Straight's, on the east side of the Road”). Although the town leaders did consider other locations, the hilltop between Farnum’s and Straight’s homes was chosen for its religious significance. Instead of meeting ‘near the crossing of roads,’ the people of Northbridge would find their center ‘on the height of the hill’ in Northbridge. This was in “keeping with Scripture to have the house so situated that all the people could be spoken of as going up to the house of the Lord.” The relatively small church was 45’ long and 36’ wide. It cost 150 pounds.iii
Despite the modesty of the meetinghouse, even a project of this scale would probably not have been attempted after 1774. This small community was now expected to stand on its own, and while its contributions were not equal to a larger town such as Mendon, the sacrifices were still great, and costly. Soon, discussion of separation from the Crown dominated not just town finances, but the lives of many families living near to the meetinghouse. What’s more, for the revolutionary generation, the meetinghouse was not just where many people came to worship; it was also the place where some men in town met to march toward war.
From the hilltop in Northbridge Center, “Captain Josiah Wood led 31 men of the Northbridge Militia to Roxbury on the Lexington and Concord alarm of April 19, 1775.” A commemorative sign marks the spot but does not mention that they were paid just two dollars for their trouble. Over the better part of the next decade, 116 men would leave Northbridge to serve. In the Northbridge Bicentennial Commemorative Journal, one historian surmises: “Although Northbridge was only three years old and lowest on the list of Massachusetts towns in population and valuation, she nobly did her part.”iv
The notion of having done one’s part is an abstract one. A more concrete way to appreciate the extent of the service of local families during the war can be achieved by visiting “The Old Cemetery.” This burial ground, now managed by the Town of Northbridge, is located on a busy, main road. It is home to about 314 memorials, primarily belonging to farmers. The soldiers interred in this cemetery are in family plots and are readily identified by small monuments from genealogical groups and firmly planted American flags.
In this cemetery, the same names repeat like dense punctuation in a short string of run-on sentences. By extension, some families buried here are also overrepresented in the service rolls. The Adamses, for example, sent the following men to war: John Adams (b.1719), Nathaniel Adams (b.1745), Francis Adams (b.1747), and Aaron Adams (b.1752). The Goldthwaites were closer in age, with Stephen Goldthwaite (b.1733) and Jacob Goldthwaite (b.1744) both serving. Generally, many young men were called up during the Revolution, and that includes Ensign George Person (b.1757). Older men also did their part, such as Northbridge’s own Lemuel Powers (b.1714). While some served for very short periods early in the war, others served intermittently for varying periods of time for the duration of the conflict. Numbers and names on gravestones enable us to understand parts of this story, but genealogy can fill in other blanks.
NPS/Horrocks
The Batchellers
Major David Batcheller (b.1742) was in the prime of his life during the war. Batcheller was also “one of the most public spirited men of the town of that time.”v The son of David Jr. and Thankful (Perham) Batcheller and a stepson of Sarah (Tilton) Batcheller, David left Upton to come to “the Hill in 1767.” vi David Batcheller was the fourth child of a cooper, and the third David in his line. Batcheller left his family’s land in Upton, Grafton, and Sutton, to become a landowner and a farmer in the land that would become Northbridge.vii Batcheller was among the early town leaders, and he offered his home for services before the church was completed. He was also a patriot during the war. Northbridge Center was the place he made his home, and also the place he returned to between his periods of service. From his point of view, Northbridge belonged to a dense network of tight, interconnected families.
Batcheller’s story shines a light on the changes wrought by the war, but a brief genealogical primer is necessary before diving too far into the Batchellers’ world. David Batcheller was married three times: first to Lois Wood (1740-1770/72); second to Abigail Bacon (1740-1804); and third to Rachel (Axtell) Goldthwaite (1757-1827). By 1775, Batcheller was already a father to five children by two wives; a sixth was born in the autumn of 1776. David and Lois established the family farm east of Northbridge Center on the aptly named East Road. David’s second wife, Abigail Bacon Batcheller (1740-1804), was born in Grafton, Massachusetts, and they were married after Lois’s untimely passing. Abigail and David’s marriage took place mere months after the town’s incorporation. Abigail and David were still newly married when the alarm reached the men of Northbridge on April 19, 1775. David was among the 31 men who traveled to Roxbury. Abigail was pregnant again (this time, with a girl named Lois) when the Declaration was drafted and signed.
Thomas Mattson neatly summarized Batcheller’s military service in a retrospective article published many years after his death. Batcheller became “a Revolutionary War standout who was the second highest ranking officer from town after Captain Josiah Wood. Batcheller enlisted as a lieutenant, rose to captain and retired as a major.”viii A late 19th century genealogy book about the Batcheller family in the United States notes that Batcheller first served with Captain Wood. What it does not say, is that early on, he was with family. Lois Batcheller was born Lois Wood. Her elder brothers included Capt. Josiah Wood and Ezra Wood, another notable patriot. After following his brother-in-law to Roxbury, Batcheller became a Captain himself under Col. Joseph Read (of Uxbridge, MA) “for eight months’ service at Roxbury” in 1775. Batcheller responded to another alarm, marching to Rhode Island under Liet. Col. Nathan Tyler in the winter of 1776. Baby Lois was only a few months old when he was gone (again) for a month and a half. Batcheller then spent most of 1778 in Peekskill, New York (from May 1778-January 1779), and finally, went with Col. Tyler’s regiment to Rhode Island in the summer of 1780. It is little wonder Northbridge still did not have a settled minister.
In the mid-1770s, Batcheller was one of thousands of colonial men expected to lead their households; he was also one of a smaller number who was expected to lead soldiers into war.
Together, Abigail and David Batcheller provided for the people of Northbridge in ways that were extraordinary. During a town meeting in August 1774, the people voted to abstain from the importation of English goods. Furthermore, “it was voted that David Batcheller be chose to provide for a town stock of ammunition, viz one barrel of powder, and lead and flints answerable to it.”ix For the next seven years, town meetings revolved around money and provisions. They never seemed to have enough of either. Many soldiers continually went unpaid or underpaid. They were often lacking in training, improperly clothed, and underfed. What could they expect at war’s end? Clearly, limited resources remained a problem. The Batchellers’ solution was to mortgage their property to provide money for his men. The family survived the war, but at great personal cost.
In 1804, David lost his wife Abigail. He subsequently married the “Widow Goldthwaite,” Rachel Axtell Goldthwaite. Rachel lost her husband the same year David lost his wife. The “Widow Goldthwaite” might have preferred to keep this title instead of remarrying. But remarry she did, and Rachel did not get along well with David. The two did not spend their golden years together, and eventually they were buried in different areas of the cemetery. According to town history, David and Rachel “were not congenial”—with both late in life, David “told her that he would give her $100 if she would go and live with her own family. She collected the $100.”x This story comes from Clara Wood, who wrote “Short Sketches” on the lives of soldiers. Whatever happened during that marriage, it was quite short. David Batcheller died in 1806, a mere two years after Abigail.
The third Mrs. Batcheller is mentioned in David’s will, but only to note that her settlement has already been arranged, “by special agreement between her and me.” Rachel outlived both her husbands by decades. Whatever memories of the war she kept alive, we do not know, for she has mostly been remembered in town lore for her $100 settlement. Conversely, the gravestone for “Maj. David Batcheller,” which is adorned with a flag and marker honoring his service, is situated next to his first two wives, Lois and Abigail. Rachel, whose stone acknowledges her brief marriage to Batcheller, is nevertheless situated with the Goldthwaite family. Rachel was buried next to her first husband, Jacob.
Abigail, who died a Batcheller, has been remembered quite differently. Upon her death, Batcheller (via a stone carver) promised to mourn his wife, with the epitaph on her grave including a "farewell" from her "loveing friend." Batcheller, who would frequently "pass this hollow ground” out of fondness or necessity, declared: “My tears shall on thy grave be found.”xi The name Abigail lived on in future generations through the family, and in 1903, the Abigail Batcheller Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) was organized in their town. From 20 members, it grew into an established part of Northbridge society, until it was dissolved in 1964. The Batcheller name has also lived on through Batcheller Park, which was dedicated by the Batcheller heirs to honor David’s service and Abigail’s labors during the war. For generations, the people of Northbridge remembered the Batchellers who built a life, and a church, on the eve of war, high on a hill in Northbridge.
Neighbors and Friends
In a small town such as Northbridge, meeting the demand for soldiers during the American Revolution was difficult. By law, Northbridge had to provide men to serve. In a population with 77 theoretically eligible men over 16, 7 were Quakers. Out of necessity, the town paid to hire additional men. Quakers were neighbors with all the people buried in the Northbridge Center Cemetery, and many were possibly even neighborly. But in many ways that would have mattered to the revolutionary generation, the Quakers and the Congregationalists lived in worlds set apart, not just by winding roads, but spiritual boundaries of their own design.
The Old Quaker Yard in Northbridge, off the aptly named Quaker Street, dates back to 1710. There are no marked gravestones, no flags, only stones planted in the earth. Per the History of Worcester County (1793), Quakers were living in what is now part of Northbridge “as early as 1703” and definitely by 1709, with the settlement of Peter Aldrich. Quakers did not want to pay taxes to support preachers they did not align with, nor did they want to take oaths or offer military service. Peter Fowler, who lived in Mendon during the war, “could not engage in the war” as a Quaker, so “he gave food and drink to both armies.” During a time when there was great pressure to meet the ever-increasing demands of the struggling army, one wonders what people such as the Batchellers made of Fowler.
NPS/Horrocks
At the Center
In many ways, the Batchellers offer an extreme example of sacrifice, not just in terms of the extent of David’s service, but the family’s decision to pay soldiers through mortgaging their own property. Yet when we examine the names of the first people in town who funded the church and voted on important tax issues, we see these same names repeat, sometimes in multiple generations, in the rolls of those who served.
The Congregationalists of the late 18th century were descended from Separatists. Yet someone such as Batcheller was not a radical. He represented the town government and led the fight for independence. For much of his adult life, Batcheller was squarely in the center of town politics. By design and by force, Congregationalists like Batcheller were not at the margins of society in late 18th century Massachusetts. They were accustomed to power and leadership and even willing to “bet the farm” on the future of their town. Even if the Aldriches and other families preceded Congregationalists in their colonization of the area, some may have questioned their place, and what role the pacifist Friends would have in the formation of a new government.
In the end, an outsider, a young apprentice named Paul Whitin changed the trajectory of development in Northbridge. The people who grew up in the community of Friends or with the Congregational Church in 18th century Northbridge also saw the start of another revolution, this one in industry. One person who connects these chapters is the first settler minister from the hilltop church. The meetinghouse colonists built in 1774 was led by the same pastor from 1782 until 1832. Rev. John Crane was regarded as “an able and instructive preacher.” He was not without his “peculiarities”—“when he said a pointed or severe thing, either in the pulpit or in private, he ‘uttered it with closed eyes.’” He preached until he was 81.xii
Rev. Crane saw the population of Northbridge grow, and the rise of a new business, run by Paul Whitin with his family (in this time, that generally meant his sons). Paul and his wife Betsey named one of their sons John Crane Whitin, an honor for the minister. Another son was also named Paul Crane Whitin, a combination namesake. By 1834, P. Whitin & Sons was thriving to such a degree that “a significant portion of the congregation from the southern section of Northbridge, known as Whitinsville, withdrew to form the Congregational Church of Whitinsville (now the Village Congregational Church).” A few years after Rev. Crane’s retirement, “the first meeting house was demolished and construction on the second meeting house was completed the following year.” The cemetery remained, but the Revolutionary generation was gone, and with it, the earliest recollections of the Town of Northbridge.
The village where the Whitins grew their business came to be known as Whitinsville, which is located just south of the old town center. In the twentieth century, workers employed by the family at the Whitin Machine Works published the Whitin Spindle. In addition to local news, the cartoonists and writers for this magazine included short history lessons. Next to a feature on the early colonists of Northbridge, a cartoonist in the 1950s drew a Quaker and a colonist in dialogue, the Quaker declaring: “ye knowest the Quakers will neither fight nor pay for not fighting.” The accompanying article simplifies the Quakers’ complex beliefs on non-violence, saying their “group did not choose to fight at all.” Remarkably, their unpaid “tax to support the Revolutionary troops” remained “uncollected” but not unnoticed almost two centuries later. Not that anyone was keeping track. Another cartoon made light of the “puritan” colonists, with a man in colonial garb appearing before a judge to declare: “King George knows we’re a peace loving lot here by the Mumford, and just to make sure things stay that way, I move we buy a barrel of gun powder and some bullets.” Here, the complex negotiations people in small towns made with each other over how they could afford to wage a war against a superpower was compressed into a simple anecdote. The joke was that only some of the men in town were a “peace loving lot;” and those who actually were (the Friends) were meant to be ridiculed.
Over time, the meetinghouse that many colonists saw as the moral and political center of their town held less and less power for their neighbors. For Whitin employees of the 1950s, it was not even part of their shared memory. After all, the Revolution could be cartoon fodder for them; it was not part of their recent past. Likewise, with time, more people in Northbridge stopped seeing the hilltop as the center of their world, and they wanted worship to be convenient, not just symbolically located. With the creation of a new republic, all people in Northbridge also gained new protections, including the right to worship as they saw fit. Within a few generations, the nucleus of power had shifted so dramatically in town that later residents would wonder why the “center” was at the top of the hill when so much more seemed to be happening at the bottom of it.
A few years after the Whitin Spindle published the short retrospective on its early days as a town, the descendants of the Batchellers donated land to the town of Northbridge for a small park. Their ancestors’ dream of a city upon a hill had not come into fruition. But the living Batchellers would have known that their town had qualities that were just as admirable. They lived in a democratic community that spread its influence far across a valley. They could visit a Congregational church in a town center that was joined by six additional churches of Christian denomination. Together with people of different faith backgrounds or no faith tradition at all, they could explore a community where no single meetinghouse was positioned as a sun around which other planets ought to orbit. Perhaps that felt like a legacy of independence, too.
Special thanks to Connor Bausman, a former park intern and student at the University of Rhode Island. Bausman contributed to the making of the ranger walk (hosted in summer 2025) that served as the inspiration for this article. Bausman’s research, feedback, and care for the Blackstone Valley made the process of interpreting this cemetery all the richer.
i Spaulding R. Aldrich, Editor., “Town of Northbridge Bicentennial Commemorative Journal, 1772-1972.,” Whitinsville Social Library Historical Collection, accessed November 26, 2025, https://whitinsvillelibrary.omeka.net/items/show/471.
ii Thomas Mattson, "Two Hundred Years of Church History Recalled," The Evening Gazette, Feb. 19, 1982, p.2.
iii Aldrich, “Town of Northbridge Bicentennial Commemorative Journal, 1772-1972.,” 10-13.
iv Aldrich, “Town of Northbridge Bicentennial Commemorative Journal, 1772-1972.,” 29.
v Louise Batcheller Maynard, who lived to be 100, treasured her family's history. She was considered a notable person of advanced age in the 1890s. See: Worcester Spy, Oct. 8, 1897, and "Ninety and Nine Years She Tells," Worcester Sunday Telegram, Oct. 8, 1899, p.16.
vi Ibid, 12.
vii Frederick Clifton Pierce, Batchelder, Batcheller Genealogy: Descendants of Rev. Stephen Bachiler, of England (Chicago: Press of W.B. Conkey Co, 1898).
viii Thomas Mattson, "They Had Their Say Etched in Stone," The Evening Gazette, Jul. 7, 1980, p.2. Military records for “David Batchellor” can also be found under the Massachusetts - Wood's Regiment, Militia record group, War Department Collection of Revolutionary War Records, 1709–1939, courtesy of the Library of the National Archives and Records Administration.
ix Duane Hamilton Heard, History of Worcester County, Massachusetts : with biographical sketches of many of its pioneers and prominent men (Philadelphia: J.W. Lewis and Co., 1889), 143.
x Ibid, 29. The source for this story is Clara Fletcher Wood, a member of the D.A.R. Chapter named for Abigail Batcheller. Her sketches are included in the town’s bicentennial book.
xi Thomas Mattson, "They Had Their Say Etched in Stone," 2.
xii Duane Hamilton Heard, History of Worcester County, Massachusetts, 142.