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                    <text>�John Martin Luther Babcock (1822-1894), Autobiography,
w r i t t e n 1893, p r i n t e d posthumously, 1894
1822
1825

1843

1849

1852
1854
/1856
^1857

IR'^R

1860

Bom i n Andover, Maine
Removes with family t o Boston, MA. Seme s c h o o l i n g
and independent study. Works a t v a r i o u s j o b s ,
i n c l u d i n g p r i n t i n g and as o f f i c e boy t o a lawyer.
Has access t o a l i b r a r y , p r a c t i c e s oratory.
Marries Martha Day Ayer of Plaistow, NH.
Journeyman p r i n t e r . Attempted newspaper f a i l s .
Wife d i e s , 1846. Health g i v e s way, s u f f e r s from
melancholia.
Marries Miriam C. Tewksbury of Wilmot, NH and moves
to Wilmot. J o i n s Free W i l l B a p t i s t Church. Gives
f i r s t sermon, 1850, and begins leading prayer
meetings and o c c a s i o n a l s e r v i c e s .
L i c e n s e d and preaches two y e a r s i n N. Wilmot
Ordained i n Wilmot. C a l l e d t o S t r a f f o r d , VT.
C a l l e d t o Farmington, NH Free W i l l B a p t i s t Church
Z^^pointed " b u i l d i n g agent" of a new meeting house,
"with f u l l power t o r a i s e t h e necessary funds,
and t o proceed t o b u i l d the house with a l l
p o s s i b l e d i s p a t c h " . B u i l d i n g dedicated, October.
S u f f e r i n g mental exhaustion, Babcock r e s i g n s a t
Farmington. Preaches a t Effingham, NH and W. Buxton
ME over the next two y e a r s .
Autobiography ends.

Post-1860 Babcock s e r v e s U n i t a r i a n churches i n L a n c a s t e r ,
NH and Groton, MA. E d i t s a reform newspaper.
The New Age (1875-1877).
L e c t u r e s and w r i t e s i n
support of temperance, workers' r i g h t s , women's
s u f f r a g e and wcxnen's r i g h t s . R e c r u i t e d as a p o l i t i c a l
speaker f o r l i b e r a l candidates. Writes novel. The
Dawning, 1885.
1894
Dies i n h o t e l f i r e i n Boston. Buried w i t h second
wife and daughter i n N. Wilmot, NH.

���AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF

olm Martin Luther Babcoc
TOGETHER WITH A

Discourse delivered at the Funeral, and

Addresses

given at the Memorial Service. .

Published for the F a m i l y .
1894.

�CHAPTER

IV.

MINISTRY.

The
1 '.

" r e v i v a l " in w h i c h I was " c o n v e r t e d " was a sort of

union affair, as it is termed ; that is. F r e e w i l l Baptists, T r i n i t a r i a n
Congregationalists

and Methodists were engaged in it.

I t was

intimated to me that I should be w a r m l y welcomed to churchmembership in either of these sects.
w i l l Baptists, on two grounds.

I elected to j o i n the F r e e -

F i r s t , this denomination had at an

early day in the abolition movement taken an anti-slavery position,
and borne testimony against " t h e sum of all v i l l a i n i e s . "

Such was

\s voice as a denomination, though a large portion of its churchmembers i n New H a m p s h i r e at least, stilj^ remained firm i n their
pro-slavery prejudices.

I did not, it is true, k n o w this at the time ;

but i presume if I had I should have chosen that sect all the
same, because it was the only religious body (besides the Q u a k e r s )
that h a d at that day the decency to protest against putting women
on the auction-block.

Second;

though I then k n e w very little

about theology, I did know that there was such a thing as C a l v i n ism ; and i.n the fervor of my newborn zeal I loathed the monstrous dogma that God had doomed a " c e r t a i n but indefinite numb e r " of tlje human race (so says the creed) to an eternal h e l l , —
and made, too, that characteristic and godlike decree before the
"foundation

of the w o r l d . "

Now

the

F r e e w i l l Baptists

were

A r m i n i a n in their theology,— had rejected the " p r e d e s t i n a t i o n "
and " e l e c t i o n "
free."

nonsense, and proclaimed that " s a l v a t i o n was

I was therefore inclined to this sect by the force of my

natural tastes and impulses.
For some months after this my thoughts puzzled and struggled
over the personal problem whether I should continue to cultivate
^

the soil ( a noble and honest occupation in itself), or whether I

�3i

•

should attempt to do something else.

I had not yet recovered

from the shock of my first defeat, and still sorely distrusted my
own

abilities.

A t the same

time I had an intense yearning for

some form of intellectual life, and feared that my brain would

i ,

stagnate, as it evidently had i n the case of most of my neighbors,

^

in the simple but wearing toils of a farmer's existence.
I n this state of doubt and perplexity, it happened, the next

\

summer, that an opening was accidentally offered to me, and, with
not more than an hour's notice, I jnounted the pulpit, and gave my
first sermon,—an entirely extemporaneous effort, without any'previous preparation whatever.

D f c o u r s e l went through, and talked

the usual length of time without stumbling.
did not settle my doubts.

But the performance

I still could not bring myself to believe

that I was made for a preacher.
I n this state of uncertainty I passed' several months of the
succeeding winter in Boston.

I set types in Mr. B u t t s ' office for

the family subsistence, and used my evenings to renew some former
associations, and to reawaken, if I could, my mental energies.

'

,rCi '

I returned to Wilmot in early spring, to meet the sorrow of laying away in the grave the dear form of the lovely babe, the first
that was born to me in my second marriage,—little M a r y L o u i s a ,
aged fifteen months.

H e r mother sleeps beside her now.

O n the question that h a d been

engaging

my thoughts

for

months, my mind not many weeks after this came to a decision.

I

could not settle down to a farmer's life ; what, then, should I do ?
I had a definite purpose,—I was bent on making myself of some
use to the world.

What c a l l i n g or occnpation could offer

opportunities than that of the Ministry ?

H e r e was a

better

profession

that, by its very nature, could have no connection with selfishness
or pride.

I t could take no counsel of policy or expediency.

I t is

devoted to the noblest objects, a n d must be controlled and guided
by the highest moral considerations.

I t could listen to nothing but

the voice of absolute T r u t h , — c a r e for nothing but the eternal R i g h t
A person of moderate abilities might do some service to his race
in such a work as this.

T h e die was c a s t , — I would be a minister.

�T h e next question w a s , — M u s t I prepare myself by a course of
study i n some theological school ?

H o w did I learn to set types ?

I learned without a master,—by m y own unaided practice.
way to learn to set types is, clearly, to set types.
to learn to preach is—to preach.

The

T h e n the way

Of course, if there were techni-

cal or scientific secrets to be learned, it would be necessary to go
where they were revealed or taught.

But how m u c h science must

a man be master of before he could learn to say what he thinks.
I am now twenty-eight years of a g e , — I will waste no time i n the
schools.

I w i l l make the needs, the prejudices, the passions of

my fellow-men my school; if I cannot learn how to preach in such
a school, I could not from a professor of d i v i n i t y .

So I began.

I gave sermons here a n d there, for awhile, as I had opportunity,—sometimes holding forth in a schoolhouse, and sometimes
taking the place of a minister who was i l l .
The

F r e e w i l l Baptist churches were

arranged in groups of

neighboring bodies, periiaps twenty churches i n a group.

These

associations were called Quarterly Meetings, and met in religious
convocation four times a year.'

A t one of these, in J a n u a r y ,

I was formally licensed to preach the gospel.
years I preached i n Wilmot.

1852,

F o r the next two

T h i s period of my life is rather bar-

ren of interest or incident.

I^

'

I '5 S'^

T h e r e was one episode that I w i l l recount, because it will tend
to show how I had my eyes opened to the_actual state of religious
character and quality in the people among whom my lot was now
cast, and how some of the fond illusions with w h i c h I set out were
too suddenly dissolved.
E a r l y in the spring I wished to purchase a cow.

I had no

s k i l l in judging of an animal's qualities by external examination,
an art i n which some old farmers are exceedingly expert.

So I

went to one of my deacons, a man who, for t h a t locality, dealt
largely in cattle, and stated my want.
fidence in his Christian integrity.

A t this time I had full con-

I had indeed heard some hints

that he was not trustworthy in his business transactions; but he
was so loud in his professions, a n d so zealous i n prayer-meeting.

�33'
that in my simplicity I h a d dismissed these innuendoes as u n worthy of belief.

So when he told me that he had just the cow I

wanted, that he would sell me below her value, I fully believed
him.

I t is true it was some slight shock to my confidence when

he went on to expatiate on the very excellent qualities of his c o w ;
but, putting the matter on the very lowest ground, I reflected that no
m a n would, for the sake of a few dollars, gravely damage his reputation among his neighbors by a dishonest transaction.

I paid

h i m his price, which was as high as a first-class animal would
command.

A s it turned out, it was the meanest and most nearly

worthless of any domestic a n i m a l ever reared.

But I said noth-

i n g ; I only thought that I might profit by the lesson in the future.
Some others, who could not help knowing the facts, made
talk about it, much to the deacon's discredit.

some

But I took my

punishment l i k e a little m a n .
I t did, however, have the effect of convincing me that the education of this people in the principles of Christian morality had
been sadly neglected, and impressed me with the necessity and
importance of giving these C h r i s t i a n s more " p r a c t i c a l " sermons.
A n d i n this way my attention was turned to this line of instruction.
M a n y months afterwards, when I had seen more evidences of
the moral obtuseness of this people, I remember that I prepared
my.self with a " strong " sermon on the urgency of the requirement
that C h r i s t i a n s should be truthful and honest in their dally lives,
if they would not bring dishonor on the gospel they

professed.

Now I most solemnly affirm that in this sermon I did not have
the deacon in my m i n d .
grievance

I was not disposed to put a personal

into a discourse; a n d , besides, some more recent cir-

cumstances had driven the thought of the deacon's cheat out of
my mind.

I could not help noticing, however, that the deacon was

very uneasy during the service ; and, as soon as it was over, one of
his sons went out of the c h u r c h , and said, in the hearing of many,
" T h e r e ! he said everything he could say without saying ' c o w '
right out."

T h i s revealed to me how much this family had suffered

i n their feelings about the " c o w trade," and it was

encouraging

�34
to know that t h e j were not insensible to the_lash.

T h e r e is some

hope of a man's moral renovation as long as a good degree of
sensibility remains.

I had got tlie best end of the " trade " after a l l .

I n the course of two years I had made some advancement i n
the art of preaching, and now felt some confidence I might j u s t l y '
attempt to be useful in a larger field.
I n J a n u a r y , 1S54, I was at a session of the Quarterly Meeting,
held at Wilmot, formally o r d a i n e d to the work of the ministr}', and
now became a full-fledged clergyman.
I

soon

received

a " c a l l " to Strafford, V e r m o n t , and, after

preaching there for one Sunday, I accepted the invitation, and removed to that town with m y family.

H e r e I passed two pleasant

years ; but nothing occurred worthy of special r e c o r d .
slavery sentiment was m u c h more vigorous
V e r m o n t than it was in N e w H a m p s h i r e .

T h e anti-

and wide-spread i n

I n my church or audi-

ence there was none of that besotted prejudice i n favor of slavery
that I h a d found i n W i l m o t ; and there was no necessity for those
anti-sla\ery sermons that h a d been a source of irritation to some
of my hearers in my first m i n i s t r y .

I n the elections of the autumn

of that year the victory for anti-slavery

was practically won i n

Vermont.
I t was here that I sought to prepare myself for future usefulness by m a k i n g an experiment.

M y parish was extended

a large t e r r i t o r y ; and, according to the custom of those
I

appointed

meetings,

on

the evening

of

week-days,

for

over
days,
the

benefit of the aged or infirm i n the outlying districts, who could
not come four or five m i l e s to c h u r c h very often

on

Sunday.

H i t h e r t o I had not been able to preach without considerable preparation. * But, to be fitted for emergencies, I wanted to be
to preach off-hand.

able

So I adopted the plan of going out to these

evening meetings, and g i v i n g a " p r e a c h " without the slightest
preparation.

I wanted to get the ability and habit of " thinking

on my feet."

I f I have ever had any facility in purely extempo-

raneous speaking, it is due to such efforts as these, more than to
any natural gift.

I n my original power of speech I was not fluent.

�35
T h e r e is, indeed, such a tiling as extemporaneous speech, the main
part

of

which has

been

thoroughly thought out

beforehand.

W h a t I desired was to be able to think as I went along.
Besides the fact that I was one year in StrafTord elected to
have charge of the public schools, there is nothing in particular to
set down i n my life there.

T h e r e was no " leligious revi\l " in

the town while I remained there.
M y next ministry was in the town of Farmington, in New
H a m p s h i r e , where I removed i n the summer of 1856.

A village

had been built up here by a thriving shoe industry, and a small
F r e e w i l l Baptist church h a d been organized.

I not only had a

" c a l l " to go there, but had been urged by the brethren who managed affairs at the headquarters of the denomination in Dover to
accept it.

T h e substance of this advice was, that the village was

growing, and, by the hard work of an earnest and able man a
flourishing church might be built up there.
T h e first point was to get a church built there, for the F r e e w i l l
Baptists had no fit place of worship.

A n old and decayed meeting-

house, built in the old times before a village was thought of, was
all that the church had to meet in ; and as this gloomy house was
three-fourths of a mile away from the village it was impossible to
gather an audience within its w a l l s on Sunday,—ah audience large
enough to give any hope of the future.
One of our leading m.inisters had been my immediate
ecessor.

pred-

H e had devoted his ministr}'of two years to the special

object of building a new meeting-house in the village ; and had
given up the work in despair.
I

went there under these conditions,

i soon saw that for

some months at least a new meeting-house was not to be thought
of, much less openly advocated.

I n fact some members of the

church " e n c o u r a g e d " me from the first by saying that the F r e e will doctrine had no chance i n that community, and a new house
of worship could never be built there.

I thought I would consic;;r

the matter for myself, and said nothing.
B u t what forced the postponement of any meeting-house enter-

�36
prise was the fact that the entire community was terribly stirred
up and excited over politics.
mont cainpaign of

W e were in the midst of the F r e -

1856.

I have witnessed and passed through fifteen presidential elections, and the campaign of 1856 surpasses any of them, or all of
them, for its purely moral effectiveness

and grandeur.

T h e cam-

paign of 1840 was fully as glowing in its e.xcitement; but it was
a merely thoughtless craze, a n d nobody kne.v what the hullabalo
was all about.
'* W i l l go for O l d T i p , therefore,
Without a why or wherefore "

was a quite accurate description of the spirit of that

canvass.

T h e election of 1S60, when L i n c o l n was elected, was very quiet
and inanimate indeed, for the contest had been practically decided
four years earlier, and it was seen to be a foregone conclusion
from the beginning of the canvass.
B u t i n 1856

the political conditions were entirely unlike any

which di.^iinguished a campaign before or since,—at least in my
remembrance.
T h e anti-slavery sentiment that had been

slowly gaining in

force and volume as a political movement since 1840 now appeared
in the field with a strength a n d vigor that threatened or promised
to sweep the country.

T h e outrages which the

border

ruffians,"

the tools of the slave power, were infliciing on the free settlers of
K a n s a s , and the horrible atrocities of midnight raids on the homes
of peaceable emigrants, borne on every Western breeze, aroused
the pity and indignation of the N o r t h .

W h e n these emigrants at

length arose to oppose the invader, and John Brown's war-cry at
Ossawatomie was heard throughout the land, the excitement blazed
with intensity of heat.

B u t the impulse which set the multitudes

in polidcal array was a purely moral impulse.

No question of dol-

lars and cents entered into the conflict; no man's pocket was appealed to.

I t was only the claims of R i g h t against Wrong, of

Freedom against Slavery.
I t was into the whirl of such a political tempest that I was cast
j p the sumiiier of 1856 in F a r m i n g t o n ,

Of course the people h a d

�37
no ear for the abstract dogmas of religion.

E v e r y t h i n g was inter-

preted with reference to the political situation.

I f the preacher

happened casually to say that no man should be the " s l a v e of his
passions," the phrase was caught up and discussed as to its bearing
on the affairs of " b l e e d i n g K a n s a s . "

I n my constitutional cau-

tion I delayed m a k i n g a public avowal of my convictions till I
could gain some insight into the state of the public mind, and the
nature of the prevailing sentiment.
and how to strike.

I wanted to know just where

I never felt more deeply impre. .,ed with the

importance of m a k i n g a right use of my abilities and my opportunities.

So I preached

as if unconscious

c a l m l y the general doctrines of religion,

of the storm raging around me.

I contented

myself with the increase i n the number of my small audience,
from Sunday to S u n d a y , — a n increase which usually marks a new
preacher's advent, and w h i c h it depends on his own abilities to
hold.

So matters went on for weeks.

A t the beginning of October I felt I must no longer delay.
was time I should fire a shot.
effect.

It

M y preaching was having no visible

I could not content myself to be
" Dropping buckets into empty wells,
A n d growing old in drawing nothing u p . "

But I had been treasuring up such a volume of " wrath against
the day of w r a t h " that I w a s impelled to say more than I then
thought I could properly say as a part of a religious service.

So

one Sunday I quietly gave notice that on the following T h u r s d a y
evening I would state my views on the political situation.
I went down to the old meeting-house on that evening in a
mental state the very calmness of which surprised me.

I

found

about twice the number of my usual audience, but the general
aspect was very quiet.

1 besran by stating the general grounds on

which c h a f e l slavery was shown to be a monstrous wrong, and the
giant sin of permitting it to e x i s t anywhere, as well as the absurd
disgrace

of continuing the iniquitous s3-stem in a land formally

dedicated, as ours was, to liberty.

A l l this I might properly have

declared in a sermon on Sunday.

B u t then I went on to apply thq

�38
principles I had laid down to the existing position of political parties.

T h e Democratic party, w h i c h had for forty years stood as the

abject tool of the S l a v e power, h a d in the present campaign taken a
position in defence of s l a v e r y .

I t was true they had attempted to

mask their batteries ; but in spite of a l l attempted disguises, the
fact was evident that the success of that party would be regarded,
South and North, as a triumph of slavery, and a blow at the hope
of freedom.

I n the conflict then raging in K a n s a s , the Democrats

were manifestly a i d i n g the effort to fasten the evil of slavery on
those virgin prairies, and i f the election went in their favor that
infamous

effort might possibly succeed.

T h e R e p u b l i c a n party,

with its watchwords of " F r e e S o i l , F r e e M e n , and F r e m o n t , " were
in political array against slavery, and their triumph would at least
check its extension.

T h e i r platform, I said, it is true, does not

come up to my ideal.

T h e y said, " N o extension of s l a v e r y ; "

but my platform w a s , " N o

slavery a n y w h e r e . "

However, as the

party that was l o o k i n g towards liberty, and proposed to strike at
least a partial blow for freedom, it was immeasurably to be preferred to the other party.

A n d I said it was inconceivable to me

how a faithful C h r i s t i a n could support a party that had raised the
black flag of slavery.
I spoke one hour a n d thirty minutes, and the meeting closed
quietly.

I went home that night with the impression that my effort

had not caused the sensation, or produced the effect, that I anticipated.

IJut I s a n k to sleep with the comfortable

consciousness

that I had done what was right, and the consequences might take
care of themselves.
five gentlemen came to my house.

They

were prominent citizens as w e l l as leading R e p u b l i c a n s .

T h e next forenoon

They

came to say that they had j u s t le.irned that I had given a masterly
lecture the previous evening ; that they were sorry they h a d not
heard it, but the fact was they had not k n o w n it was to be given.
( T h e fact was, I suspect, that my denomination was so small and
so despised in that c o m m u - i t y that it was not recognized as an
appreciable forcp.

T h e y d j d not see that any gopd pould come

�39
out of the " N a z a r e t h " of a F r e e w i l l church ; and so my notice
had been treated as of no account.)

Now, from what had been

told of the lecture, the whole village was anxious to hear i t ; and
would I do them the favor to repeat it, on any evening I might
name, at the large hall in the village which was used as the R e p u b l i can headquarters.

I told them, politely, that I could not do that,

because I had spoken as a minister and not as a politician ; and,
speaking i n my own c h u r c h I was free to say just what I thought;
that if I should speak under Republican auspices I might say some
things they would not indorse,-and I did not wish that the party
should be

responsible

for

my utterances.

T h e committee

tempted to controvert both of my positions ; they argued
persuaded

at some length ; but I did not yield.

atand

I told them,

finally, that if they desired it I would repeat my speech, on any
evening they might choose, in my own church.

After demurring

to the place, on the ground that it was a pity to take the people a
mile away from their homes when a much better place could be had
at their ov/n doors, they finally thanked me for my willingness to
repeat it anywhere, and an evening of the next week was fixed
upon.

T h e next morning posters were up everywhere, announcing

the meeting.
Now I began to see that my first meeting had not fallen fiat.
A new b r a n d was thrown into the political flame, and the excitement seethed with added fury.

What were we coming to if minis-

ters must go into politics like t h a t !
religion woul4 be destroyed.

W h y , the very foundations of

I n such an excitement passions seize

men of w h i c h they are afterwards ashamed.

So violent may men

become under such conditions that there were even hints of personal violence to myself,— though this I did not hear of till afterwards.

B u t it was supposed that there was so much danger, that

a large number of Republicans went early to the church, and surrounded the pulpit, to protect me from assault.
I went to the meeting as calmly as I went to the first, without
anticipating what I saw.

I have never known a church or h a l l to

be more densely packed.

E v e r y inch of sitting or standing room

�40
was fully occupied, and the c r o w d surged up the pulpit stairs, so it
was with some inconvenience that I gained my place.

Besides

this, every window was open, and crowds were standing at t h e m ,
and there were hundreds who could not get so near.
I began my speech, and went through with the general line of
remark that I h a d tised on the first e v e n i n g ; then I prepared to
close.

W h e n t h i s w a s perceived, the cry went up a l l over the

house, " G o on ! go on ! "

I was now thoroughly warmed up.

All

the pent-up thought that }:ad been gathering force for weeks was
now let loose, a n d facts and illustrations found utterance as fast as
I

could speak t h e m .

A n d I w a s not permitted to stop till I h a d

talked for more than three hours.
T h o s e who never m a k e speeches do not know how much help
the extemporaneous

orator receives from the enthusiasm of an

aroused and largely sympathetic audience.
evening as if some

I t seemed to be that

invisible power were near me,

thoughts and i n s p i r i n g me with irresistible force.
experiences on other occasions afterwards.

suggesting

I had similar

I do not believe that

such an afflatus is caused by any occult or spiritual influence.

It

is simply the effect of that sympathy, that magnetism (for want of
another name), w i t h w h i c h one m i n d acts or reacts on another, and
i s only a revelation of that " t o u c h of N a t u r e " that " m a k e s the
whole world k i n . "
Such is the account of my first political speech.
• I t is amusing after all these years to think of the ferment into
which that village w a s t h r o w n by this speech.

I t was the one

topic of discussion in the shops and the stores.

I t is one of the

superstitions that a clergyman is to be treated at least with outward respect.

I t had always previously been accorded to me.

B u t for a few days even this seemed to be forgotten.

M e n in their

rage did not hesitate to say to me, " A s soon as election is over,
you w i l l be d r i v e n from this t o w n . "
sponded.

" W h y not b e f o r e ? "

I re-

O f course I was not indifferent to this sort of t a l k .

About half of m y usual audience on Sunday were D e m o c r a t s .
B u t , through a l l the nervous s t r a i n and excited feeling to which I

�41
was subjected, I was at peace with myself; and quite happy in a l l
the turmoil, i n the consciousness that I was not an entirely useless
stick in the world.
But, the battle once begun, I had to keep it up for the few
weeks that intervened before election.
mons flamed with abolition.

E v e r y Sunday my

ser-

A very prominent and able Demo-

crat was brought to F a r m i n g t o n to speak, who made a direct attack on me as a " black-coated v i l l a i n . "

H e referred to the efforts

of the Democratic party early i n the century to establish religious
' toleration i n New H a m p s h i r e , and claimed that the F r e e w i l l Baptists were therefore under great obligations to that party, and that
it was ingratitude i n them to t u r n against their best friends.

I

h a d to reply to him ; and among other things, call to m i n d the
fact that the F r e e w i l l B a p t i s t Book Establishment at D o v e r h a d
been year after year denied an act of incorporation by the Democratic legislature of New H a m p s h i r e because the " M o r n i n g S t a r , "
the denominational

organ, was

an " abolition sheet."

People

thought his own guns were turned upon him.
One incident w i l l show the bitterness of feeling that now possessed the more violent partisans.

One evening I had an appoint-

ment to preach in a neighboring town.
ride out of the village i n the afternoon.

Of course I was seen to
O n my return the next

morning, I was met at the entrance of the village by a friend who
told me that a report was b u z z i n g about the shops that I had refused to shelter an escaping s l a v e , — w i t h the comment that it was
now to be seen what all my abolition zeal amounted to.

(This

was my friend's report, not his own opinion.)
I hurried home.

I t turned out that rather late the evening be-

fore my wife was called to the door by a knock, and saw a colored
man standing there, who a s k e d if he could be kept for the night,
as he was r u n n i n g away from slavery.

She was alone in the

hoi'.se, with three little children, and another expected very soon,
and did not think she ought to have a stranger, black or white,
stay a l l night.

So she directed him to the house of a brother i n

the c h u r c h , near by, who was a good anti-slavery m a n , — a n d the

�44
succeed by any form of indirection or deceit.

I t is true that this

provision proved lo be the salvation of that society.
makes the matter no better.

P.ut this

A dishonest man, clothed with such

exclusive authority, might have swamped the church by saddling
it with a heavy debt for a costly building, or ruined it by embezzling the funds.

T h e end does not justify the means.]

W h e n the articles were adopted, the first question was on the
choice of a business or building agent.
intention of t a k i n g that position.
ing, nor experience in details.

Now I had no thought or

I had no knowledge of build-

Besides the dpubt I had as to my

ability in business would have driven the thought away if it had
occurred

to me.

T h e r e were

two or three carpenters in the

society, and I supposed that the choice would naturally have fallen
on one of them.

B u t to my surprise they a l l declined the honor.

T h e t r i "h was, they had none of them much if any faith that the
enterprise would succeed, and they did not w i s h to be identified
with failure.
I n this state of the case, they began to declare, one

after

another, that I was the only man lo be chosen the building agent.
A l l that h a d so far been done had been done by me, and there
was no one else so w e l l qualified to carry it through.

W e l l , after

a long talk, I saw clearly that if I did not take up the burden the
whole thing must fail, and I consented.

I t brought upon me the

most wearing, irritating, and thankless labor of my life.
I

at once went to w o r k with all the pushing energy I could

command.

O n e of the members had a saw-mill and lumber.

In

getting his subscription he had offered to supply all the timber for
the frame ; a n d , with the understanding that he should do this, he
had put against his name a sum sufficient, as he thought, to cover
the estimated cost.
up.

After securing the.^ite^ I went to hurry h i m

I t was still winter, an unfit time lo begin building operations.

But I got h i m to promise that the timber for the frame should be
on the ground at a c c : tain time.
Some of the members advised me to let the whole job by contract,

I took counsel of my instincts.

I told thein that a coo-

�45
tractor would probably either make or lose money ; I did not w a n t
any man to lose a cent of money by us, and we could not aiTord
to Jet one grow rich out of us,—so I should build by the day.
I happily selected the right k i n d of a man to put i n the stone
foundation

and underpinning.

H e did his work well, and at a

reasonable cost.
I took one of the carpenters with me, and went away ten miles
to another saw-mill, and bought a pile of pine boards, some of it
clear and some knotty, that I hoped would be enough of such material as we would need.
I

made a bargain for a large quantity of nails, of sizes, at a

uniform price of $3.75 a hundred pounds; a price then very low,'
but since then the cost of this material has been much reduced.
M e a n t i m e , and before spring opened, I was unremitting in m y
efforts to fill up my subscription.

I had already e.\hausted a l l

chance of r a i s i n g money among my church-members and their
f r i e n d s ; and I must now try what could be done among outsiders.
H e r e my success exceeded my expectations.
ness to help me than I had counted upon.

I found more readiT w o things aided me.

Some men had an ambition to see the village built u p ; and they
contributed in the belief that a new-church would add materially
to the appearance of the village, as well as to the value of their
property.

" M a k e to yourselves friends of the mammon of un-

righteousness."
sonal nature.

T h e second cat'se of success was of a more perS o n x of the villagers had already begun to look

upon the projected meeting-house, as not so much the work of a
church society, as my own individual enterprise.
I

I t appeared that

had secured the sympathy of the Republicans, in the previous

campaign, 10 such an extent that they were disposed to help me in
the w o r k to which I was so warmly devoted.

A s my well-wishers

they urged others to come to my assistance when they had not the
means

to contribute themselves.

A n active canvass was, to my

surprise, spontaneously going on in my favor.
cans I received valuable contributions.

So from R e p u b l i -

I even, then, ventured to

3sk Democrats for subscriptions ; and here, if I did not meet with

�46
much success, I received no angry rebuff.

O n e leading and wealthy

D e m o c r a t did, indeed, give me a small subscription ; and surprised
me, as he did so, by saying, " I have told our folks that I had more
respect for you than I had for our minister ; for i n the campaign
you hit us as hard as you c o u l d , and tried lo plaster it o v e r . "
I am inclined here to pause, to note a reflection :

I t is safer

as well as in other ways better to do what you think is right, than
to be guided by the suggestions

of expediency.

Some of my

brethren, who professed to be opposed to slavery themselves, said
to me i n the heat of the battle that I was ruining a l l chances of
building a meeting-house by exasperating the pro-slavery people,
a n d advised that I should at once tone myself down.

T h i s advice

h a d no other effect than to make me more outspoken.

A t the

same time, young as I was, I was not sure that I w a s not putting
it out of m y own power ever to achieve the ultimate purpose I h a d
at h e a r t ; but I d i d not permit this fear to cause me to waver i n
my obedience to my convictions.

B u t as it turned out, my course

was, with one side, a great help to the meeting-house p r o j e c t ; and,
with the other, it secured a good measure of personal respect.
T h e t i m b e r for the frame of the house was delivered on the
ground promptly according to promise.

T h e brother, a carpenter,

who had prepared the schedule of the timber, came to me one
morning, and startled me by saying that he had hastily looked over
the timber, and thought that it was not lit to put into a frame.

I

went with him to the spot, and he pointed out to me some large
sticks, designed for heavy beams, that were " wany-edged "

and

otherwise u n f i t ; and he said the only thing to do was to condemn
the whole lot, make the man who furnished it take it b a c k , and get
a new frame at a good mill.

A n d this was said i n apparent un-

consciousness that such a procedure might ruin the whole enterprise, by involving me in a quarrel with the brother who had furnished the timber as his contribution ; by causing great delay and
greatly i n c r e a s e d c o s t ; and by the nameless injury of paralyzing
the faith of a l l who were interested i n the work.

A n d this was

the man I was at one time ignorant enough to believe would make

�47
a good building agent;

and who was by this time sorry that he had

not taken the post when it was offered to him.

W h a t an escape

for us that he did not foresee that the project would go forward.
Of course such senseless talk did not affect me for a moment.
But I engaged h i m , at wages, to take the schedule and overhaul
the t i m b e r ; to check off every defective stick, so that I might
know if any of it would answer the purpose, and report as soon
as possible.
A b o u t two hours after dinner be came to say that if six new
sticks for beams were procured, those s l i c k s whose places they
would take might be used i n place of some shorter ones in the
schedule, and a good frame might be made.
his report.

I was overjoyed at

I at once drove to the mill, ten miles away, where I

h a d bought the pile of pine boards, and laid down a memorandum
of the six beams I wanted, and asked if they could be sawed and
delivered in Farmington before the next Saturday.
could be done, and it was done.

I was told it

A n d $60 were added oiitright to

the cost of the building.
I had an idea, when I began the work, that it would be wise
for each depaitment to get if I could some man specially adapted
to the work to be done.

A carpenter may be a very good work-

man in finishing a building, who would be almost worthless in
framing it.

I was again exceedingly lucky in hunting up tlie man

who was one of the greatest geniuses in the way of framing a
building ever known.

H e lived twelve miles distant, on his own

farm. T i e did nothing i n the trade except framing; and was i n
great request for this w o r k .

I drove to his house, and was happily

able to engage him, at wages which would now seem
low.

I t was agreed that he should begin the next

fabulously

Monday,—the

very next Monday after the day on which I h a d been sagely advised to condemn the timber.

I n how many ways should I have

been involved in difficulties if I had followed that advice !
T h e framing was begun at the appointed time, rapidly pushed
to completion.

T h e entire men force of the village, almost, came

to the r a i s i n g ; and it was pronounced the best frame ever put up

�48
in town.

'

T h e master framer h a d not made

a single m i s t a k e ;

every measurement had been accurate, and every ten.-int fitted the
right mortise.

I must add that he had framed it without plans.

I was determined to avoid, if I could, the expense of an architect.
I gave to this superior man a l l the dimensions I had decided upon,
and described to h i m the general character of the structure as I
had designed i t ; _ w i t h this scanty data he went on and put up the
substantial skeleton.

H e finished his work, and took with him my

respect and admiration when he left.
I h a d a carpenter already engaged to superintend the work of
boarding and
delay.

finishing,

a n d the construction proceeded without

I gave my own time entirely to the building.

I was at^ a l l

times about it, except when away procijring m a t e r i a l .
h a n d to everything I could do.

I put my

I " s p l i t " nearly a l l the boards

used into their necessary dimensions.

I did this w o r k , in advance

of its being called for, on all the boards required for pew construction.

A s soon as any outside finish h a d been completed, I applied

a coat of " p r i m i n g , " — t h i s being a more economical method than
keeping z painter on hand for that purpose, as he could be employed only a few hours in a day.
W h e n the shingles were to be put on, 1 was lucky again in
finding the man specially fitted for such work.
with great rapidity.

H e did it well, and

I have since seen three regular carpenters lay

a less number of shingles i n a day than were faithfully put on in
the same length of time by that one m a n .
I never w o r k e d harder, except at a period later in life, than I
did that summer.

I gave my whole time and thought during the

week to the building.

W h e n Saturday night came, after 1 had paid

off the w o r k m e n , and written up my accounts,

it was

twelve o'clock ; and I sank to slumber a thoroughly
man.

usually

exhausted

I arose on Sunday m o r n i n g entirely listless and inert, with

no preparation whatever for preaching.

A t the appointed hour I

went, with tired step, nearly a mile to the old shell where we then
h e l d our meetings, and mumbled over some form of words, in the
place of preaching, and let it go at t h a t

I t must have been from

�49
habit or from sympathy that people came to my meeting that
summer.

F o r , as I now remember it, a more lifeless and dis-

j o i n t e d style of talk was never sounded from the pulpit.

T h e fact

was that I had set my heart on the completion of that meetinghouse ; my whole soul was bound up in it,—and 1 could think of
nothing else.

I am now inclined to think that in a l l that time the

thought that the purpose of the gospel was to save souls never occurred to me, only, finish the church, if the heavens fall !
E a r l y i n September, of that eventful year, the panic of
struck the country, and " d r i e d up realms to deserts."
weeks tfie meeting-house would have been

finished;

seemed that my enterprise would be paralyzed.

1857

I n a few
but now it

F o r the conven-

ience of the subscribers, I had been collecting their subscriptions
in i n s t a l l m e n t s ; but, in the conditions brought on by the panic,
m a n y could not pay me a farthing.

But I would not despair.

I

went to the churches of l i k e faith in neighboring towns, a n d beg:
ged for the Farmington meeting-house.

I raised money out of

town, i n small sums, on my personal credit.

I pressed through a l l

difficulties, and saw the end at length.
T h e edifice was dedicated early in October,— all paid for, but
I was without a penny.

A t the final casting up of the items of

cost, the sum total amounted to $2.50 less than the estimated cost,
$3,000.

I have no disposition to boast of this achievement.

I

had trouble enough and annoyance enough as I labored i n it to
take the conceit all out of me.

But it is worth putting down that

a church edifice was built, by one entirely inexperienced i n such
a n undertaking, and built by days' work, within the am.ount it was
estimated to cost.
I t is proper to say, that among the people of the tow;., more,
perhaps, than by the few members of the church and society for
whom it was built, it was recognized as a work to be placed to my
personal credit.

I could hardly go out on the street without meet-

ing a man who would say, " W e l l , E l d e r , you've done what no other
man c o u l d . "

T h i s was repeated till I was tired of hearing i t .

Of

course I appreciated the kindness of feeling w h i c h prompted

the

�50
expression ; but I l^new it was overdrawn.

A n } ' man, with the

same devotion to the object, and the same determination in prosecuting it, could have accomplished as much.
I easily accounted for the l u k e w a r m n e s s of gratitude
my own " peculiar " people, and it did not disappoint me.

among
E a r l y in

the progress of the work, serious disafEection began to manifest itself.

Some, when they saw that success was probable, felt mortified

that they did not ha\

charge of the work.

A n d when they at-

tempted to interfere w i t h my methods, they were disgusted to find
that the articles adopted by the society ga^e me full authority.

In

this respect, as already indicated, I do not hold myself entirely
blameless.

B u t they had only themselves to thank that one of

themselves was not chosen b u i l d i n g agent.

I certainly used all

my powers of persuasion to get some member of the society to
accept the trust.
B u t I do not care to discuss the details of any disagreements
that arose.

I t would only be dabbling in the baser caprices of

h u m a n nature.

T h i r t y - s i x years have

passed

since t h e n ; and

whatever feelings might then have disturbed me have long since
subsided and disappeared.
serious debate with myself.

I w i l l only add that one night I had a
T h e r e had been developments

that

day which convinced me that those for whose benefit I was undert a k i n g a work of great

hardship would be constantly throwing

obstacles in my w a y ; that wliere I h a d aright to expect

co-opera-

tion I should find only opposition ; that I bitterly felt that I had
better drop the whole thing, and quietly go away.

I walked the

floor far into the night while wrestling with this question.
I

A t last

thought that the work I proposed to do might be a benefit to a

future generation of Christians, however those then on the stnge
might see fit to act.
inspire me now.
fate.

I do not think that such hopefulness would

But then it proved decisive, a n d I accepted

my

I imagine that the real truth was, that where it was " b r a v e

to combat " I could not " l e a r n to

fly."

I must not omit to say that three or four of the church-members
were faithful to me throughout, and gave me manful help.

�51
A s was to be expected, when we began our incetin£S in the
new building the audience largely increased.
tion to sermonizing.
ov.n

conceptioHS.

I now gave atten-

But I soon found I could not come u p to my
No complaint

on this score was heard

for

months ; but I was painfully conscious of my own shortcomings.
T h e fact was, that after the terrible s t r a i n that had taxed my nervous energy for six months, there came the inevitable reaction, and
my powers v.ould not rally.

I suppose my personal manner during

the week revealed my mental condition ; for an old and retired
p h y s i c i a n , meeting me one day, told me I was not looking well,
and advised me to take opium as a tonic.
that.

Of course I did not do

B u t I had considerable of " that tired f e e l i n g " all through

the. winter.

I am scarcely conscious of more mental

feebleness

now in m y old age than I was at that time.
T h e next spring I exchanged pulpits with another minister, and
at his request, who was then seeking another settlement.

H e was

a man not of any special depth of thought, but he had a polished
and charming manner, and made

an immense impression.

Then

those who h a d been nursing their disafTection towards me since
the agitated times of the building, broke out into a loud outcry that
he was the man whom the L o r d designed to fill that pulpit.

I pre-

sume that if I had made a fight, with the moral support of the
public of that village, I could have beaten them.

But though I

would confront any opposition in defence of my convictions, I had
no taste for a personal contest, and abandoned the field.
I revisited Farmington three years ago, and found the church
apparently prosperous, and the c h u r c h edifice much enlarged.

I

estimated that they had spent in improvements three times as much
as the original cost.

So, for good or evil, my work did not fail.

I n v i t e d to speak in the c hurc h, I said such things as to liov.'
men should try to live, whether C h r i s t i a n s or not, that the minister
was shocked, and had to attempt a reply.

Personally, I was cor-

dially and k i n d l y received, and enjoyed my visit.

�CHAPTER

V.

MINISTRY—CONTINUED.

W h e n I closed my work at F a r m i n g t o n , in the spring of
I was offered

a pulpit at Effingham, N e w H a m p s h i r e .

1858,

I t was a

small and secluded place, and the meeting was supported jointly
by orthodox and F r e e w i l l people.

I chose to accept this place be-

cause of m y jaded m_ental condition, and the work would be light.
I could preach there easily, and at the same time have some chance
to rest, and some hope to recuperate.
of my ministry there.

T h e r e is nothing to be said

T h e people were easily satisfied ; and, more

wonderful still, there was no fighting between the two sects who
were joined in one meeting.
I preached one sermon there w h i c h was so much admired that
it was put in print,—the first of my sermons to have the honor of
being embalmed in type.
people heard him gladly."
poor production.

I t had for a text, " A n d the common
I look it over now, and find it a very

I f I should make a sermon now it would not be

at all like that.
T h e r e was one trifling circumstance that occurred at Effingham, that had some slight bearing on the question that had already
begun to trouble me, " D o e s preaching do any good ? "

I would

give a sermon that people would praise, but I could not perceive
that it had any effect on life or character.

I t did not seem that it

was expected to quicken k i n d l i e r feeling or awaken nobler purpose.

I f it only incieased the audience and built up the church,

that was enough.
One afternoon I called on a family in the parish.
" the lady of the house " at home.

I found only-

I had been there but a few

minutes when she s a i d , —
" plder, I knew who y o u were hitting last S u n d a y . "

�53
Now I did not dream that I was hitting any one in particular.
But I asked,—
" W h o was I hitting ? "
" I don't know how you found it out," she rejoined.

" But you

described exactly the quarrel that M r s . Jones and me have been
carrying o n . "
( N o w Jones was not the other woman's name ; but I have been
careful to give no names in these recollections.)
" I assure you, m a d a m , " I s a i d , " that I never heard the slightest hint of any misunderstanding between you and M r s . Jones.
But now that you have mentioned it, you may tell me about it, if
you w i s h . "
T h e n she gave me the details, which I have forgotten.

She

said it h a d long been a trouble on her m.ind, and she wished the
could " make u p . "
Now it had seemed to me that the other woman was the most
placable and gentle of the two, a n d I thought it worth while to try
and end the feud.

So I gave her some " instructions " as to her

duty in the matter, and a d v i s e d her to make the first advances
towards an understanding.
T h e next afternoon I took occasion to call upon Mrs. Jones.
I

made some general observations on the happiness of a com-

munity where the people l i v e d i n sympathy and at peace with each
other ; and then went on to say that as there seemed to be a general state of good feeling in the neighborhood at the time, it would
be delightful, if any were at variance, they should take advantage
of the opportunity to compose

their differences.

Upon which

she s a i d , —
" I guess you have been told that M r s . Brown (name fictitious)
and I do not speak to each other."
I said I was not ignorant of i t ; but I thought the matter could
easily be arranged, and felt sure that if M r s . Brown came to talk
it over, she ( M r s . J o n e s ) would meet her more than half way.
" I

have always been r e a d y to do that," she rejoined, with a

pleasant smile.

•

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&#13;
Known for writing and speaking as an abolitionist, supporting women's suffrage, and supporting workers rights and women's rights. Biographical information is also present after 1860 in the packet. &#13;
&#13;
A letter from Fred Ogmundson to Tami LaRock at the Goodwin Library explaining what the autobiographical packet is and hopes for use.&#13;
&#13;
Son of James Babcock and Hannah Rice&#13;
Husband of Meriam C. Tewksbury and Martha D. Ayer&#13;
Father of Mary Eva Babcock; Mary Louisa Babcock; Milton Howard Babcock; Lilla Ann Babcock; Alice Maria Babcock and 2 others&#13;
Brother of Hannah Elizabeth Babcock; Sarah Ann Babcock; William Gilbert Babcock; James Sidney Babcock; Ellen Emerson Babcock and 2 others&#13;
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Size: 8.5" x 11"&#13;
&#13;
&#13;
FHS-Kyle Leach</text>
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Autobiography: John Martin Luther Babcock</text>
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Autobiography: Clark W. Bryan Co. (1894)</text>
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https://www.geni.com/people/John-Babcock/6000000001915576472</text>
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